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Editions.--The popularity of Pandosto or Dorastus 
and Fawnia may be gauged from the fact that the 
British Museum alone contains ten editions of the novel, 
dated before the end of the eighteenth century. Of these, 
the edilio princeps of 588 is a unique copy, and forms 
the basis of the present modernized edition. Unfortun- 
ately, the whole of sig. b is missing, and the impression 
has, therefore, been completed from the I6C 7 ed. in the 
Bodleian. The chief difference between these two 
editions is the fact that whereas in the former the words 
of the oracle run " The king shall li,e without an 
heir," in the latter we have "The king shall die with- 
out an heir," which version appears again in the editions 
of I6I 4, 163z, I636, I648, 1688, 1696 and i7<33. 
The statement in the Variorum edition ofT/]be It%ter's Tale 
that Collier, Hazlitt, and Grosart all have "shall live" 
and, therefore, did not copy the 1588 edition is not 
conclusive. On the other hand, the fact that Shakespeare 


plied the defect in the original from the x6o7 edition, 
seeing that his text differs from the latter in at least three 
hundred particulars. Hazlitt's punctuation and arrange- 
ment of paragraphs are, however, often suggestive. Furness 
follows Collier's text, but Grosart returns to the original, 
from which he deviates but slightly. The chief points 
of difference between Hazlitt's text and that of x588 
(supplemented by the 6o 7 edition) have been indicated 
in the notes. 
"Dorastus" and "The Winter's Tale."--As 
far back as  709, at least, it was known that Shakespeare had 
drawn upon Greene's novel for the material of The Winter's 
Tale, but the actual debt of the dramatist to the novelist 
can be realized only after a careful comparison between 
the two works. Greene's style is, of course, character- 
istic of himself, and his pleasant conceits find no place in 
Shakespeare's mature drama. The curious moralizations 
from natural history, the familiar use of proverbial lore, 
the dissertations on abstract themes, and the laboured 
style abounding in antithesis and alliteration combine to 
place 29orastus in the long line of euphuistic novels, of 
which Lyly was the originator. Greene is often 
coarse, but he has that Elizabethan gift of sweetness, 
which is unmistakable. The pathetic scene, in which 

BeIlaria laments over the loss of her child, appealed to 
Shakespeare, and the lines in The kl/'inter's Tale 
"The day frowns more and more: thou'rt like to have 
A lullaby too rough" (Act !1. iii.) 
are reminiscent of Greene's words : "Shalt thou have the 
whistling winds for thy lullaby, and the sea foam instead 
of sweet milk ?" 
The changes, which Shakespeare introduced into 
Greene's narrative, are due in the main to the exi- 
gencies of dramatic form. The long-winded speeches 
and dreary monologues of the novel lack dramatic 
propriety. Consequently, the speeches are either omitted 
altogether, shortened, or converted into dialogue. At the 
same time, the action is concentrated in deference to the 
claims of dramatic unity. When, for example, the first 
act of the play opens, Polixenes is already about to depart, 
and is only restrained by Sicily's importunity. To 
dramatic causes, likewise, we owe the creation of Anti- 
gonus, Paulina, and Autolycus, in whom respectively are 
concentrated the nobles, ladies, and clowns of the novel. 
At other times, Shakespeare enlarges from a brief hint 
given by Greene. There is no counterpart in the novel 
of the pathetic scene in Te lighter's Tale, in which the 


character of young Maximillius is developed, merely the 
statement that the guards "coming to the Queen's 
lodging found her playing with her young son, Garinter." 
In the same way, Greene's reference to the storm at sea 
is expanded into Act III. sc. iii. of The lffinter's Tale. 
Some further points of difference between the play 
and the novel are the following : (i) The change of names 
throughout. The part of Pandosto of Bohemia is taken by 
Leontes of Sicily, that of Egistus of Sicily by Polixenes of 
Bohemia. Hermione = Bellaria, Maximillius = Garinter, 
Florizel = I)orastus, Perdita = Fawnia, Camillo = Franion 
and Capnio. (ii) The reversal of the scenes. Fawnia is 
wrecked on the coast of Sicilia, whereas, in the play, 
Antigonus lands with the child on the coast of Bohemia. 
(iii) The part played by the queen. In the novel the 
queen actually dies, is embalmed, and has an epitaph set 
over her tomb. Hermione swoons only, in order that the 
motif of a return to life may be afterwards intoduced. 
(iv) The mitigation of the coarseness and "horrors." 
Greene exhibits Pandosto trying to murder himself after 
the queen's death, and actually ending by suicide. 
It is no small tribute to Greene's literary skill that 
Shakespeare, on many occasions, adopted words or phrases 
fi'om the novel, employing them often in wholly different 


contexts. The expression used by Hermione in reference 
to the king's cruelty, "'Tis rigour and not law," is 
Greene's. Again, in Paulina's speech-- 
" 'Tis such as you, 
That creeiO lie shadovs ou him and do sigh 
At each his needless hearings, such as you 
Nourish the cause of his awaking," (Act III. iii.) 
we have a reminiscence of Greene's words regarding the 
commons of Bohemia, " They went like shadows not 
men." The mythological description-- 

"The gods themselves 
Humbling their deities to love, have taken 
The shape of beasts upon them: Jupiter 
Became a bull and bellow'd; the green Neptune 
_4. ram and bleated ; and the fire-robed god, 
Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain, 
As I seem now," (Act 1V. iii.) 

is closely modelled on Greene's lines : "And yet Dorastus 
shame not at thy shepherd's weed: the heavenly gods 
have sometimes earthly thoughts : Neptune became a ram, 
Jupiter a bull, Apollo a shepherd: they gods, and yet in 
love; and thou a man appointed to love." Finally, 
such expressions in the play as" bag and baggage,"" make 
Fortune blush," " I appeal to your conscience," "I do refer 
me to the oracle," "by the seaside, browsing of ivy," 


"mistress of the feast," etc., are mere echoes or adaptations 
of the original. 
It was this close following of his model that led 
Shakespeare into many of his anachronisms and geograph- 
ical errors. The descriptions of DeIphos as an island and 
of Bohemia as surrounded by the sea had occurred earlier 
in Greene. No doubt, Shakespeare, in his indifference 
to such matters, went one more than the novelist, setting 
side by side Apollo's oracle, a reference to Judas Iscariot, 
a Puritan " who sings psalms to horn-pipes," " whitsun 
pastorals," and the sculptor, Julio Romano. Brandes is 
wrong, however, in making Shakespeare alone responsible 
for introducing the queen as "a daughter of a Russian 
emperor." The hint came from Greene, who applies a 
similar title to Egistus' wife (ci. Dorastus, p. t6). It is 
interesting, in view of the close relationship between the 
two books, to find in the speech of the second gentleman 
what seems like Shakespeare's direct reference to his 
original: " This news, which is called true, is so like 
an old tale that the verity of it is in strong suspicion." 
(Act V. ii.) 
Sources.--In a series of articles contributed to 
Jnglische Studien (I878, I888), Caro traced the germ 
of the romance to certain events which occurred in the 


fourteenth-century history of Poland and Bohemia. Duke 
Ziemowit of Massow, conceiving suspicions of his wife, 
cast her into prison, where she bore a son. By the 
duke's orders the queen was strangled, but the boy, 
carried away in secret, was brought up by a peasant 
woman. The king never ceased to lament his action, 
and eventually his son was restored to him. We may 
see in the unfortunate wife the prototype of Bellaria and 
Hermione, and in the cup-bearer Dobek that of Franion 
and Camillo. Caro further imagined that in Dorastus' 
description of himself as "a knight born and brought up 
in Trapolonia" there is a reference to 1Viassow. The 
name Sicilia he took to be a corruption of Silesia. It is 
significant in this connection, that Greene makes the wife 
of Egistus a daughter of the Emperor of Russia. The 
story was probably carried to England on the occasion of 
the marriage between Richard II and Anne of Bohemia 
in 1382, seeing that the lady in question was attached to 
the Bohemian court of Carl IV. In the neighbourhood 
of Rawa, at all events, the story soon became the subject 
of popular ballads.' 
It is in regard to the story of the queen that Shake- 
speare differs most from Greene, by introducing an Alcestis 
rntif. No English adaptation of the .llcestis is known to 

have existed before the date of The IFinter's Tale (161 (9-- 
1I), but it is not impossible that Shakespeare read the 
play in a literal Latin version, such as Stephens' ( 1567 ) .- 
The influence of the llcestis may be traced again in the 
character of Katharine in Henry IrlII. Both Greene's 
novel and The IFinter's Tale may have been influenced, 
directly or indirectly, by the Phenissa of Euripides, an 
adaptation of which by Gascoigne and Kinwelmersh was 
produced at Gray's Inn in 1566. The same motif, that 
of a child exposed by the cruelty of a parent and dis- 
covered by a shepherd, occurs there-- 
"For so it chanced, a shepherd passing by, 
With pity moved, did stay his guiltless death; 
He took him home and gave him to his wife 
With homelier fare to feed and foster up." (Act I.) 
Shakespeare's dramatis lersome may sometimes be traced 
to a classic source. Autolycus can be referred back to 
the XIXth book of the Odyssey and to the )V[etamor- 
phoses of Ovid with which Shakespeare was familiar in 
Golding's translation. The name Hermione may have 
been derived fi'om the Indromache. Whatever may be 
said of Shakespeare's " little Latin and less Greek " he 
 The story of Alcesti's is found in Pettie's Petite Palace of 
Pleasure (see " King's Classics.") 


" For as much," he tells us, " as she would persuade 
me from wilful wickedness . . . I cast her off, having 
spent the marriage money which I had obtained by her." 
After his successful career as a pamphleteer Greene 
turned to the drama in the hope of rivalling Marlowe. 
Tamburlaine had set the fashion. Accordingly, as Greene 
himself tells u.s in the prologue to dlphonsus-- 
- My hand, which used for to pen 
The praide of love and Cupid's peerless power, 
Will now begin to treat of bloody Mars, 
Of doughty deeds and valiant victories." 
Unfortunately, 41.plsonsus has all the rant but none of 
the saving graces of Tamburlaine. Greene is, perhaps, 
happiest in his attempt to imitate the famous Zenocrate 
passage (Tamburlaine I.i.). But there is nothing in his 
version to rival the effrontery of the Marlowan couplet-- 
- _And scale the icy mountains' lofty tops 
Which with thy beauty will be 8oon resolved." 
Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay was written in rivalry with 
Faustus, but is conceived in the spirit of comedy rather 
than of tragedy. Here again Greene attempts imitations 
of particular passages in his model. The lines-- 
-Shall I be Helen in my forward fates 
_As I am Helen in my matchless hue 
And set rich Suffolk with my face afire .9 ,, 
(Friar Bacon, Iii. 3") 


T paltering Poet Aphranius, being blamed for 
troubling the Emperor Trajan with so many doting 
poems, adventured notwithstanding still to present him 
with rude and homely verses, excusing himself with the 
courtesy of the Emperor, which did as friendly accept, 
as he fondly offered. So, gentlemen, if any condemn nay 
rashness for troubling your ears with so many unlearned 
pamphlets, I will straight shroud myself under the 
shadow of your courtesies, and with Aphranius lay the 
blame on you, as well for friendly reading them, as on 
myself for fondly penning them. Hoping, though fond, 
curious, or rather currish backbiters breathe out slanderous 
speeches, yet the courteous readers (whom I fear to 
offend) will requite my travail at the least with silence: 
and in this hope I rest, wishing you health and happiness. 
RoBERa" GREs. 


THE Rascians (right honourable), when by long 
gazing against the sun they become half blind, recover 
their sights by looking on the black load-stone. Uni- 
corns, being glutted with browsing on roots of liquorice, 
sharpen their stomachs with crushing bitter grass. 
Alexander vouchsafed as well to smile at the crooked 
picture of Vulcan, as to wonder at the curious counterfeit 
of Venus. The mind is sometimes delighted as much 
with small trifles as with sumptuous triumphs; and as 
well pleased with hearing of Pan's homely fancies, as of 
Hercules' renowned labours. 
Silly :Baucis could not serve Jupiter in a silver plate, 
but in a wooden dish. All that honour Esculapius deck 
not his shrine with jewels. Apollo gives oracles as well 
to the poor man for his mite, as to the rich man for his 
treasure. The stone Echites is not so much liked for 


your honour, measuring my work by my will, and 
weighing more the mind than the matter, will, when you 
have cast a glance at this toy, with Minerva, under your 
golden target cover a deformed owl. And in this hope 
I rest, wishing unto you, and the virtuous Countess your 
wife, such happy success as your honours can desire or I 
Your Lordship's most dutifully to command, 


MONG all the passions wherewith human minds 
are perplexed, there is none that so galleth with 
restless despite as the infectious sore of jealousy; for 
all other griefs are either to be appeased with sensible 
persuasions, to be cured with wholesome counsel, to be 
relieved in want, or by tract of time to be worn out, 
jealousy only excepted which is so sauced with sus- 
picious doubts and pinching mistrust, that whoso seeks 
by friendly counsel to rase out this hellish passion, it 
forthwith suspecteth that he giveth this advice to cover 
his own guiltiness. Yea, who so is pained with this 
restless torment doubteth all, distrusteth himself, is always 
frozen with fear and fired with suspicion, having that 
wherein consisteth all his joy to be the breeder of his 
misery. rea, it is such a heavy enemy to that holy 
estate of matrimony, sowing between the married couples 


such deadly seeds of ecret hatred, as, love being once 
rased out by spiteful distrust, there oft ensueth bloody 
revenge, as this ensuing history manifestly proveth: 
wherein Pandosto, furiously incensed by causeless 
jealousy, procured the death of his most loving and loyal 
wife and his own endless sorrow and misery. 

In the country of Bohemia, there reigned a king called 
Pandosto, whose fortunate success in wars against his 
foes, and bountiful courtesy towards his friends in peace, 
made him to be greatly feared and loved of all men. 
This Pandosto had to wife a lady called Bellaria, by birth 
royal, learned by education, fair by nature, by virtues 
famous, so that it was hard to judge whether her beauty, 
fortune, or virtue won the greatest commendations. 
These two, linked together in perfect love, led their lives 
with such fortunate content that their subjects greatly 
rejoiced to see their quiet disposition. They had not 
been married long, but Fortune, willing to increase their 
happiness, lent them a son, so adorned with the gifts of 
nature, as the perfection of the child greatly augmented 
the love of the parents and the joy of their commons ; 
in so much that the Bohemians, to show their inward joys 
by outward actions, made bonfires and triumphs throughout 


all the kingdom, appointing jousts and tourneys tbr the 
honour of their young prince: whither resorted not only 
his nobles, but also divers kings and princes which were 
his neighbours, willing to shew their friendship they 
ought to Pandosto, and to win fame and glory by their 
prowess and valour. Pandosto, whose mind was fraught 
with princely liberality, entertained the kings, princes, and 
noblemen with such submiss courtesy and magnifical 
bounty, that they all saw how willing he was to gratify 
their good wills, making a general feast for his subjects, 
which continued by the space of twenty days ; all which 
time the jousts and tourneys were kept to the great content 
both of the lords and ladies there present. This solemn 
triumph being once ended, the assembly, taking their leave 
of Pandosto and 13ellaria, the young son, who was called 
Garinter, was nursed up in the house to the great joy and 
content of the parents. 
Fortune envious of such happy success, willing to shew 
some sign of her inconstancy, turned her wheel, and 
darkened their bright sun of prosperity with the misty 
clouds of mishap and misery. For it so happened that 
Egistus, king of Sicilia, who in his youth had been 
brought up with Pandosto, desirous to shew that neither 
tract of time nor distance of place could diminish their 

former riendship, provided a navy of ships and sailed into 
Bohemia to visit his old fi'iend and companion; who, 
hearing of his arrival, went himself in person and his 
wife Bellaria, accompanied with a great train of lords and 
ladies, to meet Egistus; and espying him, alighted from 
his horse, embraced him very lovingly, protesting that 
nothing in the world could have happened more accept- 
able to him than his coming, wishing his wife to welcome 
his old friend and acquaintance: who, to shew how she 
liked him whom her husband loved entertained him with 
such familiar courtesy as Egistus perceived himsel[ to be 
very well welcome. After they had thus saluted and 
embraced each other, they mounted again on horseback 
and rode toward the city, devising and recounting how 
being children they had passed their youth in friendly 
pastimes: where, by the means of the citizens, Egistus 
was received with triumphs and shows, in such sort that 
he marvelled how on so small a warning they could make 
such preparation. 
Passing the streets thus with such rare sights they rode 
on to the palace, where Pandosto entertained Egistus and 
his Sicilians with such banqueting and sumptuous cheer, 
so royally as they all had cause to commend his princely 
liberality ; yea, the very basest slave that was known to 


come from Sicilia was used with such courtesy that 
Egistus might easily perceive how both he and his were 
honoured for his friend's sake. Bellaria, who in her time 
was the flower of courtesy, willing to shew how un- 
feignedly she loved her husband by his friend's enter- 
tainment, used him likewise so familiarly that her 
countenance bewrayed how her mind was affected to- 
wards him, oftentimes coming herself into his bed 
chamber to see that nothing should be antiss to mislike 
hint. This honest familiarity increased daily more and 
more betwixt them ; for Bellaria, noting in Egistus a 
princely and bountiful mind, adorned with sundry and 
excellent qualities, and Egistus, finding in her a virtuous 
and courteous disposition, there grew such a secret 
uniting of their affections, that the one could not well be 
without the company of the other: in so much, that 
when Pandosto was busied with such urgent affairs that 
he could not be present with his friend Egistus, Bellaria 
would walk with hint into the garden, where they two in 
private and pleasant devices would pass away the time to 
both their contents. This custom still continuing betwixt 
them, a certain melancholy passion entering the mind of 
Pandosto drave him into sundry and doubtful thoughts. 
First, he called to mind the beauty of his wife Bellaria, 


the comeliness and bravery of his friend Egistus, thinking 
that love was above all laws and, therefore, to be stayed 
with no law; that it was hard to put fire and flax 
together without burning ; that their open pleasures might 
breed his secret displeasures. He considered with him- 
self that Egistus was a man and must needs love, that his 
wife was a woman and, therefore, subject unto love, and 
that where fancy forced friendship was of no force. 
These and such like doubtful thoughts, a long time 
smothering in his stomach, began at last to kindle in his 
mind a secret mistrust, which, increased by suspicion, grew 
at last to a flaming jealousy that so tormented him as he 
could take no rest. He then began to measure all their 
actions, and to misconstrue of their too private familiarity, 
judging that it was not for honest affection, but" for dis- 
ordinate fancy, so that he began to watch them more 
narrowly to see if he could get any true or certain proof 
to confirm his doubtful suspicion. While thus he noted 
their looks and gestures and suspected their thoughts and 
meanings, they two silly souls, who doubted nothing of 
this his treacherous intent, frequented daily each other's 
company, which drave him into such a frantic passion, 
that he began to bear a secret hate to Egistus and a 
louring countenance to Bellaria ; who marvelling at such 


determinate mischief, shewing him what an offence murder 
was to the Gods ; how such unnatural actions did more 
displease the heavens than men, that causeless cruelty 
did seldom or never escape without revenge: he laid 
before his face that Egistus was his friend, a king, and 
one that was come into his kingdom to confirm a league 
of perpetual amity betwixt them; that he had and did 
shew him a most friendly countenance ; how Egistus was 
not only honoured of his own people by obedience, but 
also loved of the Bohemians for his courtesy, and that if 
he now should without any just or manifest cause poison 
him, it would not only be a great dishonour to his majesty, 
and a means to sow perpetual enmity between the Sicilians 
and the Bohemians, but also his own subjects would repine 
at such treacherous cruelty. These and such like per- 
suasions ot Franion--for so was his cupbearer called--- 
could no whir prevail to dissuade him from his devilish 
enterprise, but, remaining resolute in his determination (his 
fury so fired with rage as it could not be appeased with 
reason), he began with bitter taunts to take up his man, 
and to lay before him two baits, preferment and death; 
saying that if he should poison Egistus, he would advance 
him to high dignities; if he refused to do it of an 
obstinate mind, no torture should be too great to requite 


is a whetstone to courage: there is nothing sweeter than 
promotion, nor lighter than report. Care not then though 
most count thee a traitor, so all call thee rich. Dignity, 
Franion, advanceth thy posterity, and evil report can 
hurt but thyself. Know this, where eagles build falcons 
may prey ; where lions haunt, foxes may steal. Kings 
are known to command, servants ate blameless to consent : 
fear not thou then to lift at Egistus ; Pandosto shall bear 
the burthen. Yea but, Franion, conscience is a worm 
that ever biteth, but never ceaseth: that which is rubbed 
with the stone Galactites will never be hot. Flesh dipped 
in the sea geum will never be sweet : the herb Trigion 
being once bit with an aspis never groweth, and conscience 
once stained with innocent blood is always tied to a guilty 
remorse. Prefer thy content before riches, and a clear 
mind before dignity; so being poor thou shalt have rich 
peace, or else rich, thou shalt enjoy disquiet.' 
Franion having muttered out these or such like words, 
seeing either he must die with a clear mind, or live with 
a spotted conscience, he was so cumbered with divers 
cogitations that he could take no rest, until at last he 
determined to break the matter to Egistus; but, fearing 
that the king should either suspect or hear of such 
matters, he concealed the device till opportunity would 

permit him to reveal it. Lingering thus in doubtful fear, 
in an evening he went to Egistus' lodging, and desirous to 
break with him of certain affairs that touched the king, 
after all were commanded out of the chamber, Franion 
made manifest the whole conspiracy which Pandosto had 
devised against him, desiring Ugistus not to account him 
a traitor for bewraying his master's counsel, but to think 
that he did it for conscience: hoping that although his 
master, inflamed with rage or incensed by some sinister 
reports or slanderous speeches, had imagined such cause- 
less mischief, yet when time should pacify his anger, and 
try those talebearers but flattering parasites, then he would 
count him as a faithful servant that with such care had 
kept his master's credit. Egistus had not fully heard 
Franion tell forth his tale, but a quaking fear possessed all 
his limbs, thinking that there was some treason wrought, 
and that Franion did but shadow his craft with these false 
colours: wherefore he began to wax in choler, and said 
that he doubted not Pandosto, sith he was his friend, and 
there had never as yet been any breach of amity. He had 
not sought to invade his lands, to conspire with his enemies, 
to dissuade his subjects from their allegiance ; but in word 
and thought he rested his at all times : he knew not, there- 
fore, any cause that should move Pandosto to seek his 

death, but suspected it to be a compacted knavery of the 
Bohemians to bring the king and him at odds. 
Franion, staying him in the midst of his talk, told him 
that to dally with princes was with the swans to sing 
against their death, and that, if the Bohemians had intended 
any such nfischief, it might have been better brought to 
pass than by revealing the conspiracy: therefore his Ma- 
jesty did ill to misconstrue of his good meaning, sith his 
intent was to hinder treason, not to become a traitor ; and 
to confirm his promises, if it pleased his Majesty to fly 
into Sicilia for the safeguard of his life, he would go with 
him, and if then he found not such a practise to be pre- 
tended, let his imagined treachery be repaid with most 
monstrous torments. Egistus, hearing the solemn pro- 
testation of Franion, began to consider that in love and 
kingdoms neither faith nor law is to be respected, 
doubting that Pandosto thought by his death to destroy 
his men, and with speedy war to invade Sicilia. These 
and such doubts throughly weighed, he gave great thanks 
to Franion, promising if he might with life return to 
Syracusa, that he would create him a duke in Sicilia, 
craving his counsel how he might escape out of the 
country. Franion, who having some small skill in navi- 
gation was well acquainted with the ports and havens, and 

as they were quietly floating on the sea, so Pandosto and 
his citizens were in an uproar ; for, seeing that the Sicilians 
without taking their leave were fled away by night, the 
Bohemians feared some treason, and the king thought that 
without question his suspicion was true, seeing his cup- 
bearer had bewrayed the sum of his secret pretence. 
Whereupon he began to imagine that Franion and his 
wife Bellaria had conspired with Egistus, and that the 
frvent affection she bare him was the only means of his 
secret departure ; in so much that, incensed with rage, he 
commands that his wife should be carried to straight 
prison until they heard further of his pleasure. The 
guard, unwilling to lay their hands on such a virtuous 
princess and yet fearing the king's fury, went very sorrow- 
ful to fulfil their charge. Coming to the queen's lodging 
they found her playing with her young son Garinter, unto 
whom with tears doing the message, Bellaria, astonished 
at such a hard censure and finding her clear conscience a 
sure advocate to plead in her case, went to the prison most 
willingly, where with sighs and tears she passed away the 
time till she might come to her trial. 
But Pandosto, whose reason was suppressed with rage 
and whose unbridled folly was incensed with fury, seeing 
Franion had bewrayed his secrets, and that lgistus might 


well be railed on, but not revenged, determined to wreak 
all his wrath on poor Bellaria. He, therefore, caused a 
general proclamation to be made through all his realm 
that the queen and Egistus had, by the help of Franion, 
not only committed most incestuous adultery, but also had 
conspired the king's death; whereupon the traitor Franion 
was fled away with Egistus, and Bellaria was most justly 
imprisoned. This proclamation being once blazed through 
the country, although the virtuous disposition of the queen 
did half discredit the contents, yet the sudden and speedy 
passage of Egistus and the secret departure of Franion in- 
duced them, the circumstances throughly considered, to 
think that both the proclamation was true, and the king 
greatly injured: yet they pitied her case, as sorrowful 
that so good a lady should be crossed with such adverse 
fortune. But the king, whose restless rage would admit no 
pity, thought that although he might sufficiently requite 
his wife's falsehood with the bitter plague of pinching 
penury, yet his mind should never be glutted with revenge 
till he might have fit time and opportunity to repay the 
treachery of Egistus with a fatal injury. But a curst cow 
hath ofttimes short horns, and a willing mind but a weak 
arm ; for Pandosto, although he felt that revenge was a 
spur to war, and that envy always proffereth steel, yet he 


saw that Egistus was not only of great puissance and prowess 
to withstand him, but had also many kings of his alliance 
to aid him, if need should serve for he married the 
Emperor's daughter of Russia. These and the like 
considerations something daunted Pandosto his courage, so 
that he was content rather to put up a manifest injury 
with peace, than hunt after revenge, dishonour and 
loss; determining, since Egistus had escaped scot- 
free, that Bellaria should pay for all at an unreasonable 
Remaining thus resolute in his determination, Bellaria 
continuing still in prison and hearing the contents of the 
proclamation, knowing that her mind was never touched 
with such affection, nor that Egistus had ever offered her 
such discourtesy, would gladly have come to her answer 
that both she might have known her just accusers and 
cleared herself of that guiltless crime. 
But Pandosto was so inflamed with rage and infected 
with jealousy, as he would not vouchsafe to hear her, nor 
admit any just excuse ; so that she was fain to make a 
virtue of her need and with patience to bear those heavy 
injuries. As thus she lay crossed with calamities a great 
cause to increase her grief she found herself quick with 
child, which as soon as she felt stir in her body she burst 

forth into bitter tears, exclaiming against fortune in these 
terms : 
 Alas, Bellarla, how unfortunate art thou, because for- 
tunate! Better thou hadst been born a beggar than a 
prince, so shouldest thou have bridled fortune with want, 
where now she sporteth herself with thy plenty. Ah, 
happy life, where poor thoughts and mean desires live in 
secure content, not fearing fortune because too low for 
fortune! Thou seest now, Bellaria, that care is a 
companion to honour, not to poverty ; that high cedars 
are crushed with tempests, when low shrubs are not 
touched with the wind; precious diamonds are cut with 
the tle, when despised pebbles lie safe in the sand. 
Delphos is sought to by princes, not beggars, and For- 
tune's altars smoke with kings' presents, not with poor 
men's gifts. Happy are such, Bellaria, that curse fortune 
for contempt, not t'ear, and may wish they were, not 
sorrow they have been. Thou art a princess, Bellaria, 
and yet a prisoner ; born to the one by descent, assigned 
to the other by despite ; accused without cause, and there- 
fore oughtest to die without care, for patience is a shield 
against fortune, and a guiltless mind yieldeth to sorrow. 
Ah, but infamy galleth unto death, and liveth after death : 
report i. plumed with Time's feathers, and envy oftentime. 


soundeth Fame's trumpet : thy suspected adultery shall fly 
in the air, and thy known virtues shall lie hid in the 
earth ; one mole staineth the whole face, and what is once 
spotted with infamy can hardly be worn out with time. 
Die then, Bellaria ; Bellaria, die ; for if the Gods should 
say thou art guiltless, yet envy would hear the Gods, but 
never believe the Gods. Ah, hapless wretch, cease these 
terms : desperate thoughts are fit for them that fear shame, 
not for such as hope for credit. Pandosto hath darkened 
thy fame, but shall never discredit thy virtues. Suspicion 
may enter a false action, but proof shall never put in his 
plea: care not then for envy, sith report hath a blister 
on her tongue, and let sorrow bite them which offend, 
not touch thee that art faultless. ]3ut alas, poor soul, how 
canst thou but sorrow .} Thou art with child, and by him 
that in stead of kind pity pincheth thee in cold prison.' 
And with that, such gasping sighs so stopping her 
breath that she could not utter any more words, but 
wringing her hands, and gushing forth stream of tears, 
she passed away the time with bitter complaints. The 
jailor, pitying those her heavy passions, thinking that if the 
king knew she were with child he would somewhat appease 
his fury and release her from prison, went in all haste and 
certified Pandosto what the effect of Bellaria's complaint 

was ; who no sooner heard the jailor say she was with child, 
but as one possessed with a frenzy he rose up in a rage, swear- 
ing that she and the bastard brat she was Ebig-] withal should 
die if the Gods themselves said no ; thinking that surely 
by computation of time that Egistus and not he was the 
father to the child. This suspicious thought galled afresh 
this half healed sore, in so much as he could take no rest 
until he might mitigate his choler with a just revenge, 
which happened presently after. For Bellaria was brought 
to bed of a fair and beautiful daughter, which no sooner 
Pandosto heard, but he determined that both Bellaria and 
the young infant should be burnt with fire. His nobles 
hearing of the king's cruel sentence sought by persuasions 
to divert him from his bloody determination, laying before 
his face the innocency of the child, and virtuous disposition 
of his wife, how she had continually loved and honoured 
him so tenderly that without due proof he could not, nor 
ought not to appeach her of that crime. And if she had 
faulted, yet it were more honourable to pardon with mercy 
than to punish with extremity, and more kingly to be 
commended of pity than accused of rigour. And as for 
the child, if he should punish it for the mother's offence, 
it were to strive against nature and justice ; and that un- 
natural actions do more offend the Gods than men ; how 

causeless cruelty nor innocent blood never seapes without 
revenge. These and such like reasons could not appease 
his rage, but he rested resolute in this, that Bellaria being 
an adultress the child was a bastard, and he would not 
suffer that such an infamous brat should call him father. 
Yet at last, seeing his noblemen were importunate upon 
him, he was content to spare the child's life, and yet to 
put it to a worse death. For he found out this device, 
that seeing, as he thought, it came by fortune, so he 
would commit it to the charge of fortune ; and, therefore, 
he caused a little cock-boat to be provided, wherein he 
meant to put the babe, and then send it to the mercies of 
the seas and the destinies. From this his peers in no wise 
could persuade him, but that he sent presently two of his 
guard to fetch the child: who being come to the prison, 
and with weeping tears recounting their master's message, 
Bellaria no sooner heard the rigorous resolution of her 
merciless husband, but she fell down in a swound, so that 
all thought she had been dead : yet at last being come to 
herself, she cried and scritched out in this wise: 
' Alas, sweet unfortunate babe, scarce born before envied 
by fortune ! would the day of thy birth had been the term 
of thy life; then shouldest thou have made an end to care 
and prevented thy father's rigour. Thy faults cannot yet 


deserve sucli hateful revenge ; thy days are too short for 
so sharp a doom; but thy untimely death must pay thy 
mother's debts, and her guiltless crime must be thy ghastly 
curse. And shalt thou, sweet babe, be committed to 
fortune, when thou art already spited by fortune ? Shall 
the seas be thy harbour and the hard boat thy cradle . 
Shall thy tender mouth, instead of sweet kisses, be nipped 
with bitter storms ? Shalt thou have the whistling winds 
for thy lullaby, and the salt sea foam instead of sweet milk ? 
_Alas, what destinies would assign such hard hap ? What 
father would be so cruel, or what gods will not revenge 
such rigour ? Let me kiss thy lips, sweet infant, and 
wet thy tender cheeks with my tears, and put this chain 
about thy little neck, that if fortune save thee, it may help 
to succour thee. Thus, since thou must go to surge in the 
ghasfful seas, with a sorrowful kiss I bid thee farewell, 
and I pray the gods thou mayest fare well.' 
Such and so great was her grief, that her vital spirits 
being suppressed with sorrow, she fell again down into a 
trance, having her senses so sorted with care that after she 
was revived yet she lost her memory, and lay for a great 
time without moving, as one in a trance. The guard left 
her in this perplexity, and carried the child to the king, 
who, quite devoid of pity, commanded that without delay 

band, but their pretence being partly spied, she counselled 
them to fly away by night for their better safety. Bellaria, 
who standing like a prisoner at the bar, feeling in herself 
a clear conscience to withstand her false accusers, seeing 
that no less than death could pacify her husband's wrath, 
waxed bold and desired that she might have law and 
justice, for mercy she neither craved nor howd for ; and 
that those perjured wretches which had falsely accused 
her to the king might be brought before her face to give 
in evidence. But Pandosto, whose rage and jealousy was 
such as no reason nor equity could appease, told her that, 
for her accusers, they were of such credit as their words 
were sufficient witness, and that the sudden and secret 
flight of Egistus and Franion confirmed that which they 
had confessed and as for her, it was her part to deny 
such a monstrous crime, and to be impudent in forswear- 
ing the fact, since she had past all shame in committing 
the fault : but her stale countenance should stand for no 
coin, for as the bastard which she bare was served, so she 
should with some cruel death be requited. Bellaria, no 
whir dismayed with this rough reply, told her husband 
Pandosto that he spake upon choler and not conscience, 
for her virtuous life had been ever such as no spot of 
suspicion could ever stain. And if she had borne a 

friendly countenance to Egist, it was in respect he was 
his friend, and not for any lusting affection  therefore, if 
she were condemned without any further proof it was 
rigour and not law. 
The noblemen, which sate in judgment, said that 
]ellaria spake reason, and intreated the king that the 
accusers might be openly examined and sworn, and if 
then the evidence were such as the jury might find her 
guilty (for seeing she was a prince she ought to be tried 
by her peers), then let her have such punishment as the 
extremity of the law will assign to such malefactors. 
The king presently made answer that in this case he 
might and would dispense with the law, and that the jury 
being once panelled they should take his word for 
sufficient evidence ; otherwise he would make the proudest 
of them repent it. The noblemen seeing the king in 
choler were all whist ; but ]ellaria, whose life then 
hung in the balance, fearing more perpetual infamy than 
momentary death, told the king if his fury might stand 
for a law that it were vain to have the jury yield their 
verdict  and, therefore, she fell down upon her knees, and 
desired the king that for the love he bare to his young 
on Garinter, whom she brought into the world, that he 
vould grant her a request ; which was this, that it would 


journey sent them to Delphos : they willing to fulfil the 
king's command, and desirous to see the situation nd 
custom of the island, dispatched their affairs with as much 
speed as might be, and embarked themselves to this 
voyage, which, the wind and weather serving fit for their 
purpose, was soon ended. For within three weeks they 
arrived at Delphos, where they were no sooner set on 
land but with great devotion they went to the ten:pie of 
Apollo, and there offering sacrifice to the God and gifts 
to the priest, as the custom was, they humbly craved an 
answer of their demand. They had not long kreeled at 
the altar, but Apollo with a loud voice said : ' Bohemians, 
what you find behind the altar take, and depot.' They 
forthwith obeying the oracle found a scroll of parchment, 
wherein was written these words in letters of gold-- 



As soon as they had taken out this scroll the priest of 
the God commanded them that they should not presume 

to read it before they came in the presence of Pandosto, 
unless they would incur the displeasure of Apollo. The 
Bohemian lords carefully obeying his command, taking 
their leave of the priest with great reverence, departed out 
of the temple, and went to their ships, and as soon as wind 
would permit them sailed toward Bohemia, whither in 
short time they safely arrived; and with great triumph 
issuing out of their ships went to the king's palace, whom 
they found in his chamber accompanied with other noble- 
men. Pandosto no sooner saw them but with a merry 
countenance he welcomed them home, asking what news . 
they told his majesty that they had received an answer o 
the God written in a scroll, but with this charge, that 
they should not read the contents before they came in the 
presence of the king, and with that they delivered him the 
parchment : but his noblemen entreated him that, sith 
therein was contained either the safety of his wife's life 
and honesty or her death and perpetual infamy, that he 
would have his nobles and commons assembled in the 
judgment hall, where the queen, brought in as prisoner, 
should hear the contents. If she were found guilty by 
the oracle of the God, then all should have cause to 
think his rigour proceeded of due desert: if her grace 
were found faultless, then she should be cleared before 


all, sith she had been accused openly. This pleased the 
king so, that he appointed the day, and assembled all his 
lords and commons, and caused the queen to be brought 
in before the judgment seat, commanding that the indict- 
ment should be read wherein she was accused of adultery 
with Egistus and of conspiracy with Franion. Bellaria 
hearing the contents was no whit astonished, but made 
this cheerful answer-- 
' If the divine powers be privy to human actions--as no 
doubt they are--I hope my patience shall make fortune 
blush, and my unspotted life shall stain spiteful discredit. 
For although lying report hath sought to appeach mine 
honour, and suspicion hath intended to soil my credit with 
infamy, yet where virtue keepeth the fort, report and sus- 
picion may assail, but never sack : how I have led my life 
before Egistus' coming, I appeal, Pandosto, to the gods 
and to thy conscience. What hath passed betwixt him 
and me, the gods only know, and I hope will presently 
reveal: that I loved Egistus I cannot deny ; that I 
honoured him I shame not to confess : to the one I was 
forced by his virtues, to the other for his dignities. But as 
touching lascivious lust, I say Egistus is honest, and hope 
myself to be found without spot: for Franion, I can 
neither accuse him nor excuse him, for I was not privy to 

his departure; and that this is true which I have here 
rehearsed I refer myself to the divine oracle.' 
Bellaria had no sooner said but the king commanded 
that one of his dukes should read the contents of the 
scroll, which after the commons had heard they gave a 
great shout, rejoicing and clapping their hands that the 
queen was clear of that false accusation. But the king, 
whose conscience was a witness against him of his witless 
fury and false suspected jealousy, was so ashamed of his 
rash folly that he entreated his nobles to persuade Bellaria 
to forgive and forget these injuries; promising not only 
to shew himself a loyal and loving husband, but also to 
reconcile himself to Egistus and Franion; revealing then 
before them all the cause of their secret flight, and how 
treacherously he thought to have practised his death, if 
the good mind of his cupbearer had not prevented his 
purpose. As thus he was relating the whole matter, there 
was word brought him that his young son Garinter was 
suddenly dead, which news so soon as Bellaria heard, 
surcharged before with extreme joy and now suppressed 
with heavy sorrow, her vital spirits were so stopped that 
she fell down presently dead, and could be never revived. 
This sudden sight so appalled the king's senses, that he 
sank from his seat in a swound, so as he was fain to be 


friend I have sought to betray, and yet the gods are slack 
to plague such offences. Ah, unjust Apollo ! Pandosto 
is the man that hath committed the fault; why should 
Garinter, silly child, abide the pain ? Vell, sith the gods 
mean to prolong my days to increase nay dolour, I will 
offer my guilty blood a sacrifice to those sackless souls 
whose lives are lost by my rigorous folly.' 
And with that he reached at a rapier to have murdered 
himself, but his peers being present stayed him from such 
a bloody act, persuading him to think that the common- 
wealth consisted on his safety, and that those sheep could 
not but perish that wanted a shepherd; wishing that if 
he would not live for himself, yet he should ha,e care of 
his subjects, and to put such fancies out of his mind, sith 
in sores past help salves do not heal but hurt, and in 
things past cure, care is a corrosive. Vith these and 
such like persuasions the king was overcome, and began 
somewhat to quiet his mind ; so that as soon as he could 
go abroad he caused his wife to be embalmed, and wrapt 
in lead with her young son Garinter ; erecting a rich and 
famous sepulchre wherein he entombed them both, making 
such solemn obsequies at her funeral as all Bohemia might 
perceive he did greatly repent him of his forepassed folly ; 

causing this epitaph to be engraven on her tomb in letters 
of gold-- 



This epitaph being engraven, Pandosto would once a 
day repair to the tomb, and there with watery plaints 
bewail his misfortune, coveting no other companion but 
sorrow, nor no other harmony but repentance. But 
leaving him to his dolorous passions, at last let us come 
to shew the tragical discourse of the young infant. 
Who being tossed with wind and wave floated two 
whole days without succour, ready at every puff to be 
drowned in the sea, till at last the tempest ceased and 
the little boat was driven with the tide into the coast of 
Sicilia, where sticking upon the sands it rested. Fortune 
minding to be wanton, willing to shew that as she hath 
wrinkles on her brows so she hath dimples in her cheeks, 
thought after so many sour looks to lend a feigned smile, 
and after a puffing storm to bring a pretty calm, she began 


thus to dally. It fortuned a poor mercenary shepherd 
that dwelled in Sicilia, who got his living by other men's 
flocks, missed one of his sheep, and, thinking it had 
strayed into the covert that was bard by, sought very 
diligently to find that which he could not see, fearing 
either that the wolves or eagles had undone him (for he 
was so poor as a sheep was half his substance), wandered 
down toward the sea cliffs to see if perchance the sheep 
was browsing on the sea ivy, whereon they greatly do 
feed ; but not finding her there, as he was ready to return 
to his flock he heard a child cry, but knowing there was 
no house near, he thought he had mistaken the sound and 
that it was the bleating of his sheep. ,Vherefore, looking 
more narrowly, as he cast his eye to the sea he spied a 
little boat, from whence, as he attentively listened, he 
might hear the cry to come. Standing a good while in 
a maze, at last he went to the shore, and wading to the 
boat, as he looked in he saw the little babe lying all 
alone ready to die for hunger and cold, wrapped in a 
mantle of scarlet richly embroidered with gold, and 
having a chain about the neck. 
The shepherd, who before had never seen so fair a 
babe nor so rich jewels, thought assuredly that it was 
some little god, and began with great devotion to knock 

on his breast. The babe, who writhed with the head to 
seek for the pap, began again to cry afresh, whereby the 
poor man knew that it was a child, which by some 
sinister means was driven thither by distress of weather ; 
marvelling how such a silly infant, which by the mantle 
and the chain could not be but born of noble parentage, 
should be so hardly crossed with deadly mishap. The 
poor shepherd, perplexed thus with divers thoughts, 
took pity of the child, and determined with himself to 
carry it to the king, that there it might be brought up 
according to the worthiness of birth, for his ability could 
not afford to foster it, though his good mind was willing 
to further it. Taking therefore the child in his arms, as 
he folded the mantle together the better to defend it 
fi'om cold there fell down at his foot a very fair and 
rich purse, wherein he found a great sum of gold; which 
sight so revived the shepherd's spirits, as he was greatly 
ravished with joy and daunted with fear; joyful to see 
such a sum in his power, and fearful, if it should be 
known, that it might breed his further danger. Necessity 
wished him at the least to retain the gold, though he 
would not keep the child : the simplicity of his conscience 
feared him from such deceitful bribery. Thus was the 
poor man perplexed with a doubtful dilemma until at 

having that rich chain about the neck. But at last, when 
he shewed her the purse full of gold, she began to 
simper something sweetly, and, taking her husband about 
the neck kissed him after her homely fashion, saying that 
she hoped God had seen their want and now meant to 
relieve their poverty, and, seeing they could get no 
children, had sent them this little babe to be their heir. 
' Take heed, in any case,' quoth the shepherd, ' that you 
be secret, and blab it not out when you meet with your 
gossips, for, if you do, we are like not only to lose the 
gold and jewels, but our other goods and lives.' ' Tusb,' 
quoth his wife, 'profit is a good hatch before the door: 
fear not, I have other things to talk of than this ; but I 
pray you let us lay up the money surely and the jewels, 
lest by any mishap it be spied.' 
After that they had set all things in order, the shepherd 
went to his sheep with a merry note, and the good wife 
learned to sing lullaby at home with her young babe, 
wrapping it in a homely blanket instead of a rich mantle; 
nourishing it so cleanly and carefully as it began to be a jolly 
girl, in so much that they began both of them to be very fond 
of it, seeing as it waxed in age so it increased in beauty. 
The shepherd every night at his coming home would sing 
and dance it on his knee and prattle, that in short time it 


began to speak and call him Dad and her Mam : at last 
when it grew to ripe years that it was about seven years 
old, the shepherd left keeping of other men's sheep, and 
with the money he found in the purse he bought him the 
lease of a pretty farm, and got a small flock of sheep, 
which, when Fawnia (for so they named the child) came 
to the age of ten years, he set her to keep, and she with 
such diligence performed her charge as the sheep prospered 
marvellously under her hand. Fawnia thought Porrus 
had been her father and Mopsa her mother (for so was 
the shepherd and his wife called), honoured and obeyed 
them with such reverence that all the neighbours praised 
the dutiful obedience of the child. Porrus grew in short 
time to be a man of some wealth and credit, for fortune 
so favoured him in having no charge but Fawnia, that he 
began to purchase land, intending after his death to give 
it to his daughter, so that divers rich farmers' sons came 
as wooers to his house. For Fawnia was something 
cleanly attired, being of such singular beauty and excellent 
wit, that whoso saw her would have thought she had been 
some heavenly nymph and not a mortal creature, in so 
much that, when she came to the age of sixteen years, she 
so increased with exquisite perfection both of body and 
mind, as her natural disposition did bewray that she was 


born of some high parentage ; but the people thinking she 
was daughter to the shepherd Porrus rested only amazed 
at her beauty and wit; yea, she won such favour and 
commendations in every man's eye, as her beauty was not 
only praised in the country, but also spoken of in the court ; 
yet such was her submiss modesty, that although her praise 
daily increased, her mind was no whit puffed up with pride, 
but humbled herself as became a country maid and the 
daughter of a poor shepherd. Every day she went forth 
with her sheep to the field, keeping them with such care 
and diligence as all men thought she was very painful, 
defending her face from the heat of the sun with no other 
veil but with a garland made of boughs and flowers, which 
attire became her so gallantly as she seemed to be the 
goddess Flora herself for beauty. 
Fortune, who all this while had shewed a friendly face, 
began now to turn her back and to shew a louring counten- 
ance, intending as she had given Fawnia a slender check, 
so she would give her a harder mate ; to bring which to 
pass, she laid her train on this wise. Egistus had but one 
only son, called Dorastus, about the age of twenty years; 
a prince so decked and adorned with the gifts of nature, 
so fraught with beauty and virtuous qualities, as not only 
his father joyed to have so good a son, but all his commons 

rejoiced that God had lent them such a noble prince 
to succeed in the kingdom. Egistus placing all his joy 
in the perfection of his son, seeing that he was now 
marriageable, sent ambassadors to the king of Denmark 
to entreat a marriage between him and his daughter, who 
willingly consenting made answer that the next spring, 
if it please Egistus with his son to come into Denmark, 
he doubted not but they should agree upon reasonable 
conditions. Egistus, resting satisfied with this friendly 
answer, thought convenient in the meantime to break with 
his son: finding therefore on a day fit opportunity, he 
spake to him in these fatherly terms : 
' Dorastus, thy youth warneth me to prevent the worst, 
and mine age to provide the best. Opportunities neglected 
are signs of folly : actions measured by time are seldom 
bitten with repentance. Thou art young, and I old; age 
hath taught me that which thy youth cannot yet conceive. 
I, therefore, will counsel thee as a father, hoping thou wilt 
obey as a child. Thou seest my white hairs-are blossoms 
for the grave, and thy fresh colour fruit for time and 
fortune, so that it behoveth me to think how to die and 
for thee to care how to live. My crown I must leave by 
death, and thou enjoy my kingdom by succession, wherein 
I hope thy virtue and prowess shall be such, as though my 


increasing. Time passed with folly may be repented, but not 
recalled. If thou marry in age, thy wife's fresh colours 
will breed in thee dead thoughts and suspicion, and thy 
white hairs her loathsomeness and sorrow ; for Venus' 
affections are not fed with kingdoms, or treasures, but with 
youthful conceits and sweet anaours. Vulcan was allotted 
to shake the tree, but Mars allowed to reap the fruit. 
Yield, Dorastus, to thy father's persuasions, which may 
prevent thy perils. I have chosen thee a wife, fair by 
nature, royal by birth, by virtues famous, learned by 
education and rich by possessions, so that it is hard to 
judge whether her bounty or fortune, her beauty or virtue 
be of greater force. I mean, Dorastus, Euphania, daughter 
and heir to the king of Denmark.' 
Egistus pausing here awhile, looking when his son should 
make him answer, and seeing that he stood still as one in 
a trance, he shook him up thus sharply: 
' Well, I)orastus, take heed ; the tree Jklpya wasteth not 
with fire, but withereth with the dew : that which love 
nourisheth not, perisheth with hate. If thou like 
Euphania, thou breedest nay content, and in loving her 
thou shalt have nay love ; otherwise 'and with that he 
flung from his son in a rage, leaving him a sorrowful man, 
in that he had by denial displeased his father, and half 

angry with himself that he could not yield to that passion 
whereto both reason and his father persuaded him. But 
see how fortune is plumed with time's feathers, and how 
she can minister strange causes to breed strange effects. 
It happened not long after this that there was a meeting 
of all the farmers' daughters in Sicilia, whither Fawnia 
was also bidden as the mistress of the feast, who, having 
attired herself in her best garments, went among the rest 
of her companions to the merry meeting, there spending 
the day in such homely pastimes as shepherds use. As 
the evening grew on and their sports ceased, each 
taking their leave at other, Fawnia, desiring one of her 
companions to bear her company, went home by the flock 
to see if they were well folded, and, as they returned, it 
fortuned that Dorastus, who all that day had been hawking, 
and killed store of game, encountered by the way these 
two maids, and, casting his eye suddenly on Fawnia, he 
was half afraid, fearing that with Actaeon he had seen 
Diana ; for he thought such exquisite perfection could not 
be found in any mortal creature. As thus he stood in a 
maze, one of his pages told him that the maid with the 
garland on her head was Fawnia, the fair shepherd whose 
beauty was so much talked of in the court. Dorastus, 
desirous to see if nature had adorned her mind with any 

inward qualities, as she had decked her body with outward 
shape, began to question with her whose daughter she was, 
of what age, and how she had been trained up ? who 
answered him with such modest reverence and sharpness 
of wit that Dorastus thought her outward beauty was but 
a counterfeit to darken her inward qualities, wondering 
how so courtly behaviour could be found in so simple a 
cottage, and cursing fortune that had shadowed wit and 
beauty with such hard fortune. As thus he held her a 
long while with chat, beauty seeing him at discovert 
thought not to lose the vantage, but struck him so deeply 
with an envenomed shaft, as he wholly lost his liberty 
and became a slave to love, which before contemned love, 
glad now to gaze on a poor shepherd, who before refused 
the offer of a rich princess ; for the perfection of Fawnia 
had so fired his fancy as he felt his mind greatly changed 
and his affections altered, cursing love that had wrought 
such a change, and blaming the baseness of his mind that 
would make such a choice ; but, thinking that these were 
but passionate toys that might be thrust out at pleasure, to 
avoid the siren that enchanted him he put spurs to his 
horse, and bade this fair shepherd farewell. 
Fawnia, who all this while had marked the princely 
gesture of Dorastus, seeing his face so well featured, and 

each limb so perfectly fi'amed, began greatly to praise his 
perfection, commending him so long till she found herself 
faulty, and perceived that, if she waded but a little 
further, she might slip over her shoes: she, therefore, 
seeking to quench that fire which never was put out, went 
home and feigning herself not well at ease got her to bed ; 
where casting a thousand thoughts in her head, she could 
take no rest : for, if she waked, she began to call to mind 
his beauty, and, thinking to beguile such thoughts with 
sleep, she then dreamed of his perfection. Pestered thus 
with these unacquainted passions, she passed the night as 
she could in short slumbers. 
Dorastus, who all this while rode with a flea in his ear, 
could not by,any means forget the sweet favour of Fawnia, 
but rested so bewitched with her wit and beauty, as he 
could take no rest. He felt fancy to give the assault and 
his wounded mind ready to yield as vanquished: yet he 
began with divers considerations to suppress this frantic 
affection, calling to mind that Fawnia was a shepherd one 
not worthy to be looked at of a prince, much less to be 
loved of such a potentate ; thinking what a discredit it 
were to himself, and what a grief it would be to his father, 
blaming fortune and accusing his own folly that should be 
so fond as but once to cast a glance at such a country slut. 

As thus he was raging against himself, Love, fearing if she 
dallied long to lose her champion, stept more nigh and 
gave him such a fresh wound as it pierced him at the 
heart, that he was fain to yield, maugre his face, and to 
forsake the company and get him to his chamber, where 
being solemnly set he burst into these passionate terms : 
' Ah, Dorastus, art thou alone . No, not alone, while 
thou art tired with these unacquainted passions. Yield 
to fancy thou canst not by thy father's counsel, but in 
a frenzy thou art by just destinies. Thy father were 
content if thou couldst love, and thou, therefore, discontent 
because thou dost love. O, divine love ! feared of men 
because honoured of the Gods, not to be suppressed by 
wisdom, because not to be comprehended by reason ; 
without law, and, therefore, above all law. How now, 
Dorastus ! why dost thou blaze that with praises, which 
thou hast cause to blaspheme with curses . yet why 
should they curse love that are in love . Blush, Dorastus, 
at thy fortune, thy choice, thy love : thy thoughts cannot 
be uttered without shame, nor thy affections without 
discredit. Ah, Fawnia, sweet Fawnia, thy beauty, 
Fawnia! Shamest not thou, Dorastus, to name one 
unfit for thy birth, thy dignities, thy kingdoms . Die, 
Dorastus ; Dorastus, die. Better hadst thou perish with 

then, Fawnia, those thoughts which thou mayest shame 
to express. But ah, Fawnia, love is a lord who will 
command by power, and constrain by force. Dorastus, 
ah, Dorastus is the man I love ! the worse is thy hap, and 
the less cause hast thou to hope. Will eagles catch at 
flies ? will cedars stoop to brambles, or mighty princes 
look at such homely trulls. No, no; think this: 
Dorastus' disdain is greater than thy desire ; he is a prince 
respecting his honour, thou a beggar's brat forgetting thy 
calling. Cease then not only to say, but to think to love 
Dorastus, and dissemble thy love, Fawnia ; for better it 
were to die with grief, than to live with shame. Yet, in 
despite of love, I will sigh to see if I can sigh out love.' 
Fawnia, somewhat appeasing her griefs with these pithy 
persuasions, began, after her wonted manner, to walk about 
her sheep, and to keep them from straying into the corn, 
suppressing her affection with the due consideration of her 
base estate, and with the impossibilities of her love; 
thinking it were frenzy, not fancy, to covet that which the 
very destinies did deny her to obtain. 
But Dorastus was more impatient in his passions, for 
love so fiercely assailed him, that neither company nor 
music could mitigate his martyrdom, but did rather far the 
more increase his malady: shame would not let him 

he wondered how a country maid could afford such 
courtly behaviour. Dorastus, repaying her curtesy with a 
smiling countenance, began to parley with her on this 
manner : 
' Fair maid,' quoth he, ' either your want is great, or a 
shepherd's life very sweet, that your delight is in such 
country labours. I cannot conceive what pleasure you 
should take, unless you mean to imitate the nymphs, being 
yourself so like a nymph. To put me out of this doubt, 
shew me what is to be commended in a shepherd's life, 
and what pleasures you have to countervail these drudging 
Fawnia, with blushing face, made him this ready answer : 
' Sir, what richer state than content, or what sweeter life 
than quiet ? we shepherds are not born to honour, nor 
beholding unto beauty the less care we have to fear 
fame or fortune. We count our attire brave enough if 
warm enough, and our food dainty if to suffice nature: 
our greatest enemy is the wolf our only care in safe 
keeping our flock : instead of courtly ditties we spend the 
days with country songs:our amorous conceits are 
homely thoughts : delighting as much to talk of Pan and 
his country pranks as ladies to tell of Venus and her 
wanton toy6. Our toil is in shifting the folds and 

presence of his men broke off their parle, so that he went 
with them to the palace and left Fawnia sitting still on 
the hill side, who, seeing that the night drew on, shifted 
her folds, and busied herself about other work to drive 
away such fond fancies as began to trouble her brain. 
But all this could not prevail ; for the beauty of Dorastus 
had made such a deep impression in her heart, as it could 
not be worn out without cracking, so that she was forced 
to blame her own folly in this wise : 
Ah, Fawnia, why dost thou gaze against the sun, or 
catch at the wind ? stars are to be looked at with the eye, 
not reached at with the hand : thoughts are to be measured 
by fortunes, not by desires ; falls come not by sitting low, 
but by climbing too high. What then, shall all fear to 
fall because some hap to fall ? No, luck cometh by lot, 
and fortune windeth those threads which the destinies 
spin. Thou art favoured, Fawnia, of a prince, and yet 
thou art so fond to reject desired favours: thou hast 
denial at thy tongue's end, and desire at thy heart's 
bottom ; a woman's fault to spurn at that with her foot, 
which she greedily catcheth at with her hand. Thou 
lovest Dorastus, Fawnia, and yet seemest to lour. Take 
heed:if he retire thou wilt repent; for unless he love, 
thou canst but die. Die then, Fawnia, for Dorastus doth 

but jest: the lion never preyeth on the mouse, nor falcons 
stoop not to dead stales. Sit down then in sorrow, cease 
to love and content thyself that Dorastus will vouchsafe 
to flatter Fawnia, though not to fancy Fawnia. Heigh 
ho! ah fool, it were seemlier for thee to whistle, as a 
shepherd, than to sigh as a lover.' And with that she 
ceased from these perplexed passions, folding her sheep 
and hieing home to her poor cottage. 
But such was the incessant sorrow of Dorastus to think 
on the wit and beauty of Fawnia, and to see how fond he 
was being a prince, and how froward she was being a 
beggar, that he began to lose his wonted appetite, to look 
pale and wan ; instead of mirth, to feed on melancholy, for 
courtly dances to use cold dulnps: in so much that not 
only his own men, but his father and all the court began 
to marvel at his sudden change, thinking that some 
lingering sickness had brought him into this state. 
Wherefore he caused physicians to come, but Dorastus 
neither would let them minister, nor so much as suffer 
them to see his urine ; but remained still so oppressed with 
these passions, as he feared in himself a farther incon- 
venience. His honour wished him to cease from such 
folly, but love forced him to follow fancy. Yea, and in 
despite of honour, love won the conquest, so that his hot 

desires caused him to find new devices; for he presently 
made himself a shepherd's coat, that he ,1,ight go unknown 
and with the less suspicion to prattle with Fawnia, and 
conveyed it secretly into a thick grove hard joining to the 
palace, whither, finding fit time and opportumty, he went 
all alone, and, putting off his princely apparel, got on those 
shepherd's robes, and, taking a great hook in his hand, 
which he had also gotten, he went very anciently to find 
out the mistress of his affection. But, as he went by the 
way, seeing himself clad in such unseemly rags, he began 
to smile at his own folly and to reprove his fondness in 
these terms. 
' Well,' said Dorastus, ' thou keepest a right decorum-- 
base desires and homely attires ; thy thoughts are fit for 
none but a shepherd, and thy apparel such as only becomes 
a shepherd. A strange change from a prince to a peasant ! 
what, is it thy wretched fortune or thy wilful folly ? Is 
it thy cursed destinies, or thy crooked desires, that 
appointeth thee this penance ? Ah, Dorastus, thou canst 
but love ; and, unless thou love, thou art like to perish 
for love. Yet, fond fool, choose flowers, not weeds ; 
diamonds, not pebbles ; ladies which may honour thee, not 
shepherds which may disgrace thee. Venus is painted in 
silks, not in rags ; and Cupid treadeth on disdain when 


be a prince and to become a shepherd, and see I have 
made the change, and, therefore, not to miss of my choice.' 
 Truth,' quoth Fawnla,  but all that wear cowls are not 
monks : painted eagles are pictures, not eagles. Zeuxis' 
grapes were like grapes, yet shadows: rich clothing make 
not princes, nor homely attire beggars: shepherds are not 
called shepherds because they wear hooks and bags, but 
that they are born poor and live to keep sheep; so this 
attire hath not made I)orastus a shepherd, but to seem like 
a shepherd.' 
' Well, Fawnia,' answered Dorastus, ' were I a shepherd, 
I could not but like thee, and, being a prince, I am forced 
to love thee. Take heed, Fawnia: be not proud of 
beauty's painting, for it is a flower that fadeth in the 
blossom. Those, which disdain in youth, are despised in 
age. Beauty's shadows are tricked up with time's colours, 
which, being set to dry in the sun, are stained with the sun, 
scarce pleasing the sight ere they begin not to be worth 
the sight; not much unlike the herb Ephemeron, which 
flourisheth in the morning and is withered before the sun 
setting. If my desire were against law, thou mightest 
justly deny me by reason ; but I love thee, Fawnia, not 
to misuse thee as a concubine, but to use thee as my wife 
I can promise no more, and mean to perform no less.' 

Fawnia, hearing this solemn protestation of I)orastus, 
could no longer withstand the assault, but yielded up the 
fort in these friendly terms : 
' Ah, Dorastus, I shame to express that thou forcest 
me with thy sugared speech to confess: my base birth 
causeth the one, and thy high dignities the other. Beggars' 
thoughts ought not to reach so far as kings, and yet my 
desires reach as high as princes. I dare not say, Dorastus, 
I love thee, because I am a shepherd ; but the Gods know 
I have honoured I)orastus (pardon if I say amiss), yea, 
and loved Dorastus with such dutiful affection as Fawnia 
can perform, or Dorastus desire. I yield, not overcome 
with prayers but with love, resting Dorastus' handmaid, 
ready to obey his will, if" no prejudice at all to his honour, 
nor to my credit.' 
Dorastus, hearing this friendly conclusion of Fawnia, 
embraced her in his arms, swearing that neither distance, 
time, nor adverse fortune, should diminish his affection; 
but that, in despite of the destinies, he would remain loyal 
unto death. Having thus plighted their troth each to 
other, seeing they could not have the full fruition of their 
love in Sicilia, for that Egistus' consent would never be 
granted to so mean a match, Dorastus determined, as 
soon as time and opportunity would give them leave, to 

provide a great mass of money and many rich and costly 
jewels for the easier carriage, and then to tiansport them- 
selves and their treasure into Italy, where they should lead 
a contented life, until such time as either he could be 
reconciled to his father, or else by succession come to the 
kingdom. This device was greatly praised of Fawnia, 
for she feared if the king his father should but hear of the 
contract, that his fury would be such as no less than death 
would stand for payment. She, therefore, told him that 
delay bred danger ; that many mishaps did fall out between 
the cup and the lip ; and that, to avoid danger, it were best 
with as much speed as might be to pass out of Sicilia, 
lest fortune might prevent their pretence with some new 
despite. Dorastus, whom love pricked forward with 
desire, promised to dispatch his affairs with as great haste 
as either time oropportunity would give him leave, and so, 
resting upon this point, after many embracings and sweet 
kisses, they departed. 
Dorastus, having taken his leave of his best beloved 
Fawnia, went to the grove where he had his rich apparel, 
and there, uncasing himself as secretly as might be, hiding 
up his shepherd's attire till occasion should serve again to 
use it, he went to the palace, shewing by his merry coun- 
tenance that either the state of his body was amended, or 

the case of his mind greatly redressed. Fawnia, poor 
soul, was no less joyful, that, being a shepherd, fortune 
had favoured her so as to reward her with the love of a 
prince, hoping in time to be advanced from the daughter 
of a poor farmer to be the wife of a rich king ; so that 
she thought every hour a year, till by their departure they 
might prevent danger, not ceasing still to go every day to 
her sheep, not so much for the care of her flock, as for 
the desire she had to see her love and lord, Dorastus, who 
oftentimes, when opportunity would serve, repaired thither 
to feed his fancy with the sweet content of Fawnia's 
presence. And although he never went to visit her but in 
his shepherd's rags, yet his oft repair made him not only 
suspected, but known to divers of their neighbours ; who, 
for the good will they bare to old Porrus, told him secretly 
of the matter, wishing him to keep his daughter at home, lest 
she went so oft to the field that she brought him home a 
young son, for they feared that Fawnia, being so beautiful, 
the young prince would allure her to folly. Porrus was 
stricken into a dump at these news, so that, thanking his 
neighbours for their good will, he hied him home to his 
wife, and calling her aside, wringing his hands and shed- 
ding forth tears, he brake the matter to her in these terms : 
' I am afraid, wife, that my daughter Fawnia hath made 


her self so fine, that she will buy repentance too dear. I 
hear news, which, if they be true, some will wish they had 
not proved true. It is told me by my neighbours that 
Dorastus, the king's son, begins to look at our daughter 
Fawnia ; which, if it be so, I will not give her a halfpenny 
for her honesty at the year's end. I tell thee, wife, now- 
adays beauty is a great stale to trap young men, and fair 
words and sweet promises are two great enemies to a 
maiden's honesty ; and thou knowest, where poor men 
entreat and cannot obtain, there princes may command and 
will obtain. Though kings' sons dance in nets, they 
may not be seen ; but poor men's faults are spied at a little 
hole. Well, it is a hard case where kings' lusts are laws, 
and that they should bind poor" men to that which they 
themselves wilfully break.' 
' Peace, husband,' quoth his wife, ' take heed what you 
ay: speak no more than you should, lest you hear what 
you would not : great streams are to be stopped by sleight, 
not by force, and princes to be persuaded by submission, 
not by rigour. Do what you can, but no more than you 
may, lest in saving Fawnia's maidenhead you lose your 
own head. Take heed, I say : it is ill jesting with edged 
tools, and bad sporting with kings. The wolf had his 
skin pulled over his ears for but looking into the lion's 


den.' ' Tush, wife,' quoth he, ' thou speakest like a fool : 
if the king should know that I)orastus had begotten our 
daughter with child, as I fear it will fall out little better, 
the king's fury would be such as, no doubt, we should 
both lose our goods and lives, lecessity, therefore, hath 
no law, and I will prevent this mischief with a new device 
that is come in my head, which shall neither offend the 
king nor displease Oorastus. I mean to take the chain 
and the jewels that I found with Fawnia and carry them to 
the king, letting him then to understand how she is none 
of my daughter, but that I found her beaten up with the 
water, alone in a little boat, wrapped in a rich mantle, 
wherein was inclosed this treasure. By this means I hope 
the king will take Fawnia into his service, and we, what- 
soever chanceth, shall be blameless.' This device pleased 
the good wife very well, so that they determined, as soon 
as they might know the king at leisure, to make him privy 
to this case. 
In the meantime, Dorastus was not slack in his affairs, 
but applied his matters with such diligence that he provided 
all things fit for their journey. Treasure and jewels he 
had gotten great store thinking there was no better friend 
than money in a strange country : rich attire he had pro- 
vided for Fawnia, and, because he could not bring the 


matter to pass without the help and advice of some one, he 
made an old servant of his, called Capnio, who had served 
him fi'om his childhood, privy to his affairs ; who, seeing 
no persuasions could prevail to divert him from his settled 
determination, gave his consent, and dealt so secretly in the 
cause that within short space he had gotten a ship ready 
for their passage. The mariners, seeing a fit gale of wind 
for their purpose, wished Capnio to make no delays, lest, if 
they pretermitted this good weather, they might stay long 
ere they had such a fair wind. Capnio, fearing that his 
negligence should hinder the journey, in the night time 
conveyed the trunks full of treasure into the ship, and by 
secret means let Fawnia understand that the next morning 
they meant to depart. She, upon this news, slept very little 
that night, but got up very early, and went to her sheep, 
looking every minute when she should see Dorastus, who 
tarried not long for fear delay might breed danger, but 
came as fast as he could gallop, and without any great 
circumstance took Fawnia up behind him, and rode to the 
haven where the ship lay, which was not three quarters of a 
mile distant from that place. He no sooner came there, but 
the mariners were ready with their cock-boat to set them 
aboard, where, being couched together in a cabin, they 
passed away the time in recounting their old loes, till their 

man Capnio should cone. Porrus, who had heard that 
this morning the king would go abroad to take the air, 
called in haste to his wife to bring him his holiday hose 
and his best jacket, that he might go, like an honest 
substantial man, to tell his tale. His wife, a good cleanly 
wench, brought him all things fit, and sponged him up very 
handsomely, giving him the chains and jewels in a little 
box, which Porrus, for the more safety, put in his bosom. 
Having thus all his trinkets in a readiness, taking his staff 
in his hand he bade his wife kiss him for good luck, and 
so he went towards the palace. But, as he was going, 
fortune, who meant to sbew him a little false play, pre- 
vented his purpose in this wise. 
He met by chance in his way Capnio, who, trudging as 
fast as he could with a little coffer under his arm to the 
ship, and spying Porrus, whom he knew to be Fawnia's 
father, going towards the palace, being a wily fellow, 
began to doubt the worst, and, therefore crossed him by the 
way, and asked him whither he was going so early this 
morning ? Porrus, who knew by his face that he was one 
of the court, meaning simply, told him that the king's son 
I)orastus dealt hardly with him, for he had but one 
daughter who was a little beautiful, and that the neigh- 
bours told him the young prince had allured her to folly: 

Capnio, seeing that by fair means he could not get him 
aboard, commanded the mariners that by violence they 
should carry him into the ship ; who, like sturdy knaves, 
hoisted the poor shepherd on their backs, and bearing him 
to the boat launched from the land. 
Porrus, seeing himself so cunningly betrayed, durst not 
cry out, for he saw it would not prevail, but began to 
entreat Capnlo and the mariners to be good to him, and to 
pity his estate: he was but a poor man that lived by his 
labour. They, laughing to see the shepherd so afraid, 
made as much haste as they could, and set him aboard. 
Porrus was no sooner in the ship but he saw Dorastus 
walking with Fawnia; yet he scarce knew her, for she 
had attired herself in rich apparel, which so increased her 
beauty that she resembled rather an angel than a mortal 
Dorastus and Fawnia were hali astonished to see the 
old shepherd, marvelling greatly what wind had brought 
him thither, till Capnio told him all the whole discourse ; 
how Porrus was going to make his complaint to the king, 
if by policy he had not prevented him, and therefore now, 
sith he was board, for the avoiding of further danger it 
were best to carry him into Italy. 
Dorastus praised greatly his man's device, and allowed 


himself to go see the sport ; where, passing away the day, 
returning at night from hunting, he asked for his son, but 
he could not be heard of, which drave the king into a 
great choler: whereupon most of his noblemen and other 
courtiers posted abroad to seek him, but they could not 
hear of him through all Sicilia, only they missed Capnio 
his man, which again made the king suspect that he was 
not gone far. 
Two or three days being past and no news heard ot 
I)orastus, Egistus began to fear that he was devoured 
with some wild beasts, and upon that made out a great 
troop of men to go seek him ; who coasted through all 
the country, and searched in every dangerous and secret 
place, until at last they met with a fisherman that was 
mending his nets, when Dorastus and Fawnia took shipping; 
who, being examined if he either knew or heard where the 
king's son was, without any secrecy at all revealed the 
whole matter, how he was sailed two days past, and had 
in his company his man Capnio, Porrus and his fair 
daughter Fawnia. This heavy news was presently 
carried to the king, who, half dead for sorrow, commanded 
Porrus' wife to be sent for. She, being come to the 
palace, after due examination, confessed that her neigh- 
bours had oft told her that the king's son was too fanfiliar 


with Fawnia, her daughter; whereupon, her husband, 
fearing the worst, about two days past, hearing the king 
should go an hunting, rose early in the morning and 
went to make his complaint ; but since she neither heard 
of him, nor saw him. Egistus, perceiving the woman's 
unfeigned simplicity, let her depart without incurring further 
displeasure, conceiving such secret grief for his son's reck- 
less folly, that he had so forgotten his honour and 
parentage by so base a choice to dishonour his father and 
discredit himself, that with very care and thought he fell 
into a quartan fever, which was so unfit for his aged 
years and complexion, that he became so weak as the 
physicians would grant him no life. 
But his son Dorastus little regarded either lather, coun- 
try, or kingdom in respect of his lady Fawnia; for fortune, 
smiling on this young novice, lent him so lucky a gale of 
wind for the space of a day and a night, that the mariners 
lay and slept upon the hatches ; but, on the next morning, 
about the break of day the air began to overcast, the winds 
to rise, the seas to swell, yea, presently there arose such a 
fearful tempest, as the ship was in danger to be swallowed 
up with every sea, the mainmast with the violence of the 
wind was thrown overboard, the sails were torn, the 
tacklings went in sunder, the storm raging still so furiously 

Bohemia. ' Sir,' quoth Dorastus, 'know that my name 
Meleagrus is, a knight born and brought up in Trapolonia, 
and this gentlewoman, whom I mean to take to my wife, 
is an Italian, born in Padua, from whence I have now 
brought her. The cause I have so small a train with me 
is for that, her fi'iends unwilling to consent, I intended 
secretly to convey her into Trapolonia ; whither, as I 
was sailing, by distress of weather I was driven into these 
coasts : thus, have you heard my name, my country, and 
the cause of my voyage.' Pandosto, starting fi'om his 
seat as one in choler, made this rough reply: 
' Meleagrus, I fear this smooth tale hath but small truth, 
and that thou coverest a foul skin with fair paintings. 
No doubt, this lady by her grace and beauty is of her 
degree more meet for a mighty prince than for a simple 
knight, and thou, like a perjured traitor, hath bereft her 
of her parents, to their present grief and her ensuing 
sorrow. Till, therefore, I hear more of her parentage 
and of thy calling I will stay you both here in ]3ohemia.' 
Dorastus, in whom rested nothing but kingly valom; 
was not able to suffer the reproaches of landosto, but 
that he made him this answer: 
' It is not meet for a king, without due proof, to appeach 
any man of ill behaviour, nor, upon suspicion, to infer 

belief: strangers ought to be entertained with courtesy, 
not to be entreated with cruelty, lest, being forced by 
want to put up injuries, the gods revenge their cause 
with rigour.' 
Pandosto, hearing Dorastus utter these words, com- 
manded that he should straight be committed to prison, 
until such time as they heard further of his pleasure; but, 
as for Fawnia, he charged that she should be entertained 
in the court with such courtesy as belonged to a stranger 
and her calling. The rest of the shipmen he put into the 
Having, thus, hardly handled th e supposed Trapolonians, 
Pandosto, contrary to his aged years, began to be some- 
what tickled with the beauty of Fawnia, in so much that 
he could take no rest, but cast in his old head a thousand 
new devices : at last, he fell into these thoughts : 
' How art thou pestered, Pandosto, with fi'esh affections, 
and unfit fancies, wishing to possess with an unwilling 
mind and a hot desire, troubled with a cold disdain ! shall 
thy mind yield in age to that thou hast resisted in youth ? 
Peace, Pandosto : blab not out that which thou mayest 
be ashamed to reveal to thyself. Ah, Fawnia is beauti- 
ful, and it is not for thine honour, fond fool, to name her 
that is thy captive, and another man's concubine. Alas, 

I reach at that with my hand which nay heart would fain 
refuse; playing like the bird Ibis in Egypt, which hateth 
serpents, yet feedeth on their eggs. Tush, hot desires 
turn oftentimes to cold disdain: love is brittle, where 
appetite, not reason, bears the sway: king's thoughts 
ought not to climb so high as the heavens, but to look no 
lower than honour : better it is to peck at the stars with 
the young eagles, than to prey on dead carcasses with the 
vulture : tis more honourable for Pandosto to die by con- 
cealing love, than to enjoy such unfit love. Doth 
Pandosto then love ? Yea : whom ? A maid unknown, 
yea, and perhaps immodest, straggled out of her own 
country: beautiful, but not therefore chaste ; comely in 
body, but perhaps crooked in mind. Cease then, 
Pandosto, to look at Fawnia, much less to love her: be 
not overtaken with a woman's beauty, whose eyes are 
framed by art to enamour, whose heart is framed by 
nature to enchant, whose false tears know their true 
times, and whose sweet words pierce deeper than sharp 
Here Pandosto ceased from his talk, but not from his 
love : for, although he sought by reason and wisdom to 
suppress this frantic affection, yet he could take no rest, 
the beauty of Fawnia had made such a deep impression in 

his heart. But, on a day, walking abroad into a park 
which was hard adjoining to his house, he sent by one of 
his servants for Fawnia, unto whom he uttered these 
words : 
' Fawnia, I commend thy beauty and wit, and now pity 
thy distress and want; but, if thou wilt forsake Sir 
Meleagrus, whose poverty, though a knight, is not able 
to maintain an estate answerable to thy beauty, and yield 
thy consent to Pandosto, I will both increase thee with 
dignities and riches.' 'No, sir,' answered Fawnia; 
'Meleagrus is a knight that hath won me by love, and 
none but he shall wear me : his sinister mischance shall not 
diminish my affection, but rather increase my good will : 
think not, though your grace hath imprisoned him without 
cause, that fear shall make me yield my consent: I had 
rather be Meleagrus' wife and a beggar than live in 
plenty and be Pandosto's concubine.' Pandosto, hearing 
the assured answer of Fawnia, would, notwithstanding, 
prosecute his suit to the uttermost, seeking with fair words 
and great promises to scale the fort of her chastity, swear- 
ing that if she would grant to his desire Meleagrus should 
not only be set at liberty, but honoured in his court 
amongst his nobles. But these alluring baits could not 
entice her mind from the love of her new betrothed mate 

Meleagrus; which Pandosto seeing, he left her alone 
for that time to consider more of the demand. Fawnia, 
being alone by herself, began to enter into these solitary 
meditations : 
'Ah, unfortunate Fawnia! thou seest to desire above 
fortune is to strive against the gods and fortune. 
gazeth at the sun weakeneth his sight : they, which stare at 
the sky, fall oft into deep pits: haddest thou rested con- 
tent to have been a shepherd, thou needcst not to have 
feared mischance: better had it been for thee by sitting 
low to have had quiet, than by climbing high to have 
tallen into misery. But alas, I fear not mine own 
danger, but Dorastus' displeasure. Ah, sweet Dorastus, 
thou art a prince, but now a prisoner, by too much love 
procuring thine own loss: haddest thou not loved Fawnia 
thou hadst been fortunate: shall I then be false to him 
that hath forsaken kingdoms for my cause ? no: would 
my death might deliver him, so mine honour might be 
preserved ! ' With that, fetching a deep sigh, she ceased 
from her complaints, and went again to the palace, 
enjoying a liberty without content, and proffered pleasure 
with small joy. But poor Dorastus lay all this while 
in close prison, being pinched with a hard restraint, and 
pained with the burden of cold and heavy irons, sorrowing 

sometimes that his fond affection had procured him this 
mishap, that by the disobedience of his parents he had 
wrought his own despite: another while cursing the 
gods and fortune that they should cross him with such 
sinister chance, uttering at last his passions in these words : 
'Ah, unfortunate wretch! born to mishap, now thy 
folly hath his desert: art thou not worthy for thy base 
mind to have bad fortune ? could the destinies favour thee, 
which hast forgot thine honour and dignities ? will not the 
gods plague him in despite, that paineth his father with 
disobedience ? Oh, gods ! if any favour or justice be 
left, plague me, but favour poor Favnia, and shroud her 
from the tyrannies of wretched Pandosto ; but let my 
death free her from mishap, and then welcome death' 
Dorastus, pained with these heavy passions, sorroved and 
sighed, but in vain, for which he used the more patience. 
But again to Pandosto, vo, broiling at the heat of un- 
lawful lust, could take no rest, but still felt his mind 
disquieted with his new love, so that his nobles and 
subjects marvelled greatly at this sudden alteration, not 
being able to conjecture the cause of this his continued 
care. Pandosto, thinking every hour a year till he had 
talked once again with Favia, sent for her secretly into 
his chamber, whither though Fawnia unvllingly coming 

Pandosto entertained her very courteously, using these 
familiar speeches, which Fawnia answered as shortly in 
this wise. 
' Fawnia, are you become less wilful and more wise to 
prefer the love of a king before the liking of a poor knight ? 
I think, ere this, you think it is better to be favoured of a 
king than of a subject.' 
f avnia. 
' Pandosto, the body is subject to victories, but the 
mind not to be subdued by conquest: honesty is to be 
preferred before honour; and a dram of faith weigheth 
down a ton of gold. I have promised to Meleagrus to 
love, and will perform no less.' 
' Fawnla, I know thou art not so unwise in thy choice 
as to refuse the offer of a king, nor so ungrateful as to 
despise a good turn. Thou art now in that place where 
I may command, and yet thou seest I entreat : my power 
is such as I ,nay compel by force, and yet I sue by 
prayers. Yield, Fawnia, thy love to him which burneth 
in thy love: Meleagrus shall be set free, thy countrymen 
discharged, and thou both loved and honoured.' 


 I see, Pandosto, where lust ruleth it is a miserable 
thing to be a virgin; but know this, that I will always 
prefer fame before life, and rather choose death than 
Pandosto, seeing that there was in Fawnia a determinate 
courage to love Meleagrus, and a resolution without fear 
to hate him, flung away from her in a rage, swearing, if in 
short time she would not be won with reason, he would 
forget all courtesy, and compel her to grant by rigour: 
but these threatening words no whlt dismayed Fawnia, 
but that she still both despited and despised Pandosto. 
While thus these two lovers strove, the one to win love, 
the other to live in hate, Egistus heard certain news by 
merchants of Bohemia, that his son Dorastus was im- 
prisoned by Pandosto, which made him fear greatly that 
his son should be but hardly entreated: yet, considering 
that Bellaria and he was cleared by the Oracle of Apollo 
from that crime wherewith Pandosto had unjustly charged 
them, he thought best to send with all speed to Pandosto, 
that he should set free his son Dorastus, and put to death 
Fawnia and her father Porrus. Finding this by the 
advice of counsel the speediest remedy to release his son, 


he caused presently two of his ships to be rigged, and 
thoroughly furnished with provision of men and victuals, 
and sent divers of his nobles ambassadors into Bohemia ; 
who, willing to obey their king and receive their young 
prince, made no delays for fear of danger, but with as 
much speed as might be sailed towards Bohemia. The 
wind and seas favoured them greatly, which made 
them hope of some good hap, for within three days they 
were landed ; which Pandosto no sooner heard of their 
arrival, but he in person went to meet them, entreating 
them with such sumptuous and familiar courtesy, that they 
might well perceive how sorry he was for the former injuries 
he had offered to their king, and how willing, if it might be, 
to make amends. 
As Pandosto made report to them, how one Meleagrus, 
a knight of Trapolonia, was lately arrived with a lady, 
called Fawnia, in his land, coming very suspiciously, 
accompanied only with one servant and an old shepherd, 
the ambassadors perceived by the half, what the whole tale 
meant, and began to conjecture that it was Dorastu, who, 
for fear to be known, had changed his name; but, dis- 
sembling the matter, they shortly arrived at the court, 
where, after they had been very solemnly and sumptuously 
feasted, the noblemen of Sicilia being gathered together, 

they made report of their embassage, where they certified 
Pandosto that Meleagrus was son and heir to the king 
Egistus, and that his name was Dorastus ; how, contrary 
to the king's mind, he had privily conveyed away that 
Fawnia, intending to marry her, being but daughter to 
that poor shepherd Porrus : whereupon, the king's request 
was that Capnio, Fawnia, and Porrus might be murdered 
and put to death, and that his son Dorastus might be sent 
home in safety. Pandosto, having attentively and with 
great marvel heard their embassage, willing to reconcile 
himself to Egistus and to shew him how greatly he 
esteemed his favour, although love and fancy forbade him 
to hurt Fawnia, yet in despite of love he determined to 
execute Egistus' will without mercy ; and, therefore, he 
presently sent for Dorastus out of prison, who, marvelling 
at this unlooked-for courtesy, found at his coming to the 
king's presence that which he least doubted of, his father's 
ambassadors ; who no sooner saw him, but with great 
reverence they honoured him, and Pandosto embracing 
Dorastus set him by him very lovingly in a chair of estate. 
Dorastus, ashamed that his folly was bewrayed, sate a long 
time as one in a muse, till Pandosto told him the sum of 
his father's embassage; which he had no sooner heard, 
but he was touched at the quick, for the cruel sentence 


that was pronounced against Fawnia. But neither could 
his sorrow nor his persuasions prevail, for Pandosto 
commanded that Fawnia, Porrus, and Capnio should be 
brought to his presence ; who were no sooner come, but 
Pandosto, having his former love turned to a disdainful 
hate, began to rage against Fawnia in these terms: 
' Thou disdainful vassal, thou currish kite, assigned by 
the destinies to base fortune, and yet with an aspiring 
mind gazing after honour, how durst thou presume, being 
a beggar, to match with a prince ? by thy alluring looks 
to enchant the son of a king to leave his own country to 
fulfil thy disordinate lusts ? O despiteful mind ! a proud 
heart in a beggar is not unlike to a great fire in a small 
cottage, which warmeth not the house, but burneth it: 
assure thyself that thou shalt die. And thou, old doting 
fool, whose folly hath been such as to suffer thy daughter 
to reach above thy fortune, look for no other meed but 
the like punishment. But Capnio, thou which hast 
betrayed the king, and hast consented to the unlawful lust 
of thy lord and master, I know not how justly I may 
plague thee: death is too easy a punishment for thy 
falsehood, and to live (if not in extreme misery) 
were not to shew thee equity. I, therefore, award that 
thou shalt have thine eyes put out, and continually 

while thou diest, grind in a mill like a brute beast.' 
The fear of death brought a sorrowful silence upon 
Fawnia and Capnio, but Porrus seeing no hope of life 
burst forth into these speeches : 
 t-'andosto, and ye noble ambassadors of 8icilia, seeing 
without cause I am condemned to die, I am yet glad I have 
opportunity to disburden my conscience before my death. 
I will tell you as much as I know, and yet no more than 
is true. Whereas I am accused that [ have been a 
supporter of Fawnla's pride, and she disdained as a vile 
beggar, so it is, that I am neither father unto her, nor she 
daughter unto me. For so it happened, that I being a 
poor shepherd in 8icilia, living by keeping other men's 
flocks, one of my sheep straying down to the sea side, as 
I went to seek her, I saw a little boat driven upon the shore, 
wherein I found a babe of six days old, wrapped in a mantle 
of scarlet, having about the neck this chain. I, pitying the 
child and desirous of the treasure, carried it home to my 
wife, who with great care nursed it up and set it to keep 
sheep. Here is the chain and the jewels, and this Fawnia 
is the child whom I found in the boat. What she is or 
of what parentage I know no, but this 1 am assured, that 
she is none of mine.' 
t-'andosto would scarce suffer him to tell out his tale 

but that he inquired the time of the year, the manner of 
the boat, and other circumstances ; which when he found 
agreeing to his count, he suddenly leapt fi'om his seat and 
kissed Fawnia, wetting her tender cheeks with his tears, and 
crying, ' My daughter Fawnia ! ah sweet Fawnia ! I am 
thy father, Fawnia.' This sudden passion of the king drave 
them all into a maze, especially Fawnia and Dorastus. 
But, when the king had breathed himself a while in this 
new joy, he rehearsed before the ambassadors the whole 
matter, how he had entreated his wife Bellaria for jealousy, 
and that this was the child, whom he had sent to float in 
the seas. 
Fawnia was not more joyful that she had found such a 
father, than Dorastus was glad he should get such a wife. 
The ambassadors rejoiced that their young prince had made 
such a choice, that those kingdoms, which through enmity 
had long time been dissevered, should now through perpetual 
amity be united and reconciled. The citizens and subjects 
of Bohemia, hearing that the king had found again his 
daughter, which was supposed dead, joyful that there was 
an heir apparent to his kingdom, made bonfires and shows 
throughout the city. The courtiers and knights appointed 
jousts and tourneys to signify their willing minds in 
gratifying the king's hap. 

Eighteen days being past in these princely sports, Pan- 
dosto, willing to recompense old Porrus, of a shepherd made 
him a knight ; which done, providing a sufficient navy to 
receive him and his retinue, accompanied with Dorastus, 
Fawnia, and the Sicilian ambassadors, he sailed towards 
Sicilia, where he was most princely entertained by Egistus ; 
who, hearing this most comical event, rejoiced greatly at his 
son's good hap, and without delay (to the perpetual joy of 
the two young lovers) celebrated the marriage : which was 
no sooner ended, but Pandosto, calling to mind how first he 
betrayed his friend Egistus, how his jealousy was the cause 
of ]3ellaria's death, that contrary to the law of nature he had 
lusted after his own daughter, moved with these desperate 
thoughts, he fell into a melancholy fit, and, to close up the 
comedy with a tragical stratagem, he slew himself; whose 
death being many days bewailed of Fawnia, Dorastus, and 
his dear friend Egistus, Dorastus, taking his leave of his 
father, went with his wife and the dead corpse into 
Bohemia, where, after they were sumptuously entombed, 
Dorastus ended his days in contented quiet. 



IO 3 

SACK, to plunder, z8 
SACKLESS, harnfless, 3 I 
SAFETY ; ' for the more s.,' 
for the greater safety, 64 
SALVES, ointments, 3 I 
SCAPES, escapes, Zo 
SCOT-FREE, without pay- 
ment, 16 
SCYRUM, river in south of 
Arcadia (Pauly), 46 
S.ASON ; ' in the mean s.,' 
meantime, z 5 
SET, seated, 45 
SHADOW, to conceal, xxviii, 
SHADOWED, shaded, sad- 
dened, 43 
SHEPHERD, shepherdess, 42 , 
47, 54 
S HIFT ; ' S. the folds,' change 
the sheep-pens, 47, 5% 
SHIPPING  t took s.,' took 
ship, 68 
SHOES ; ' slip over her s.; 
sink deep into the mire, 
SHOOK; 's. him up,' re- 
buked him, 4 I 
SHROUD, to cover, protect, 
XXV, XXVlll, 22 

SIBYI.LA, a woman gifted 
with special powers of 
prophecy and divination, 
SFT, tO examine, 5 I 
SILL', innocent, 6, 3% 34 
SIMPLICITY, innocence, 34, 
SIMrLY ; ' meaning s.,' in 
all innocence, 64 
SINISTER, inauspicious, 7 5, 
SITH, since, I I, I2, etc. 
SLEIGHT, skill, 6I 
SLENDER, slight, xxviii, 38 
SLV, heavy, idle person, 44 
SMOOTH ; ' S. tale,' plausible 
story, 65, 7z 
So ; 's. parents' wills are 
laws, s. they pass not all 
laws,' parents' wishes 
are laws, provided they 
do not go beyond all 
laws, 4o 
SONG ;  in one s.,' in one 
tone, 25 
Sot ; ' to give his wife a s. 
of the same sauce,' to 
treat his wife in the same 

way, 9 


Cete felicit6 ne t'enteral jamais mort enuie. Et ie 
m'estonne que vostre ceur genereux s'attache a des objetz 
si bus, & si vils. 
Ie m'estonne bien dauantage de ton auueug]ement, & 
de ton ignorence, n'ayant point d'yeux pour admirer ce 
chef deuure de la nature, n'y d'esprit pore" en cognoitre 
|es perfections. 
Ie veux quelle soit la plus parfaite du monde; quelle 
gloire ; & qu'el aduantage peut tirer vostre amour de ses 
merites, dans la condition ou vous estez elleu6, & elle 
A ce quc ic roy tu metz lcs dons du Cic], & lcs 
faueurs de la Nature au rang des choses que tu mesprises 
le plus. Il y a quelque rapport d'elle a moy car si ie suis 
Roy de Epirotes, elle est Reyne des vertus, & la moindre 
de ses graces vaut plus que tous les trhesors que ie possede. 

La vertu est tousjours a estimer ; mais ne pouuez vous 
pus luy dresser des autels, & luy rendre des sacrifices en 
un sujet plus digne. Acquitez vous de ces debuoirs enuers 
une Princesse qui possede ]es mesmes qualitez. 
1 tentera. In this text a comma is often introduced in similar 


Ie vous permetz le change, & si ie vous d'effens d'estre 

Ie n'auray point beaucoup d'honneta" a vous obeir en 
cela n'y ayant pas beaucoup de peine ; car la Fidelit? & 
,non inclination ne different que de nora. A demain les 
effectz de mes promesses. 
.4terceuant le Paysan qu'elle tenoit iour son Pere, 
s'estonne " continue a parler a mesure qu'il 
s'aproche d'elle. 
I'e crains que mon Pere n'aye escout les discours de 
nostre entretien, il me faut changer d'action & de visage. 
Fauuye ie lofie ta vertu. Cest de la sorte qu'iI faut 
resister aces courtisans, toutesfois ils sont si rusez qu'il 
vaut mieux les fuir, que les combattre. Lentretien de ce 
ieune Prince t'apportera plus de honte que de gloric, puis 
qu'il n'en veut qu'a ton honneur. 
Ie ne saurols me deffendre de ses visites, mais ie suis 
fort aize que vous en soyez temoing, pour faire taire la 

Tu parles bien, mais il faut faire encore mieux, & cet 
le moyen de luy imposer silence. 

Et bien ma belle doubterez vous encore de la verit de 
ma passion. 
hies yeux n'en doubtent plus ; mais mon esprit est 
tousiours dans sa rues fiance. 
Nay-je pas acomply rues promesses. 
Ouy mais ie crains qu'en changeant d'habit ; vous ne 
changiez d'amour. 
Mon obeissance est attache6 a mon habit, & non pas 
mon affection. I1 me faudroit changer d'amc, & de cceur, 
auant qu'estre capable d'inconstance. 
Quelle assurance m'en voulez vous donner. 
Celle qui vous plairra. 
Mon honneur cherche labry du mariage. 
Ie vous en offre le port entre rues bras. 


Cc servient les Ecueils de ma Pudicit & la mort 
nl'est plus agreable. 
Croyez vous que ie voulusse rauir par tiranie ce que ie 
pros conquerrir par amour, gardez ma roy pour assurance 
La Foy d'un Amant est sujete a caution. 
Mais si ie vous ayme que pouuez vous craindre. 
La violence de ce mesme amour. 
Le Respect & l'Amour ne se faucent iamais compagnie. 
Ie le veux croire, mais non pas l'experimenter. 
Si est ce que dans la seruitude ou vous m'auez reduit, 
ie n'ay que ma parole a vous donner pour gaige. 
Comme les paroles se forment de vent, le vent les 
emporte. I'ayme mieux les effectz. 


sentent bon, les apas de leur odeur me font pasmer de 
joye. Mais le trepas en est trop delicieux pour le craindre, 
ie veux mourir tout afait. 

Ne parlez point de mort quand vous mourriez de joye, ie 
ne laisserois pas de mourir de tristesse. 
Mourons donc tous deux d'amour. Mais il me semble 
que vostre sein soupire de cholere, ou de jalousie, de ce 
que ie ne cueil pas des fleurs de son jardin j'en veux faire 
un nouueau bouquet. 
I1 baise son sein. 
II continue tousiours a parler. 
Les epines de ses roses mon pique, mais iecroy qu'elles 
ont la vertu des armes de Telephe, aprez m'auoir caus6 le 
real, eiles m'en donneront le remede. EII rebaize son sein.] 
Me voila guery mais ie me plains de ma guerison, I'ayme 
mieux ma blessure. 

Vous ne prenez pas garde que le 8oleil ialoux de noz 
felicitez seua chacher dans l'onde. 


I1 s'est echaufd au feu de noz caresses. Ce qui luy fair 
hater sa course pour esteindre l'ardeur d6t il est embras6. 
Vos cbmandemens me pressent plus que luy. Adieu ie 
vous laisse mon cceur, mon ame, & mes pens6es, & 
n'enporte rien que mon corps anim6 de vostre amour. 


Tu veux done soubz un faux pretexte damiti, troubler 
le rep.os de ma vie. Ie roy bien que tune cognois pas le 
pouuor de la belle passion que me possede, ton courage, 
& ta force me seruiront de nouuelles armes darts ta resist- 
ence, pour t'immoler a ma fureur. Mon esprit resolu n'a 
que faire de ton conseil, & mon authorit6 absolue, me 
fournira le secours que tu me refuses. 
La partie est mal faite d'un suiet contre son Prince, & 
d'ailleurs vostre amour & vostre cholere sont si redoutab|es, 
dans vostre puissance souueraine, que ie ne s;aurois vous 
resister, & quoy que j'en aye la volont6, j'en perdz le 
courage. Commandez moy ce qui vous plaira, ie vous 
obeiray, & simon obcissance eat criminelle, j'en effaceray 
la tache auec mon sang. 
Ne t'est ce pas tousiours de l'aduantage de partager 
auec moy & la glorie, & la honte qui pourroient accom- 
paigner rues entreprises. Tu doibs attandre ta fortune de 
mon Destin puis que cet luy seul qui peut ourdir la trame 
des beaux ]ours de ta vie. Dispose donc toutes choses 
a l'accomplissement de mon dessain, L'heure du depart 
I'y apporteray autant de soing que de diligence. 
Que jay peu de courage pour auoir rant d'amour. Ie 


Panope auec un Page. 
Cest estre bien malheureux de porter la peyne du crime 
d'autruy. Nous ne contribuons que par force au dessain 
de nostre Prince. Et toutesfois nous courons le hasard 
d'estre punis du mal qu'il a fair. Ma roy si ie n'estois 
engag6 si auant ie changerois de condition, ou de maistre. 
Lr PAc. 
Vous auez raison, mais on doibt tousiours prendre le 
temps, comme il vient. I1 faut courre des grands hasards 
pour faire une grande fortune. 
1.e Paysan sort. 

Ou vas tu arrete. 

1Vessleurs ie vous crie mercy sauuez moy la vie, voila 
ma bourse. I'e men alois treuuer le Roy pour me faire 
rendre ma lille que le Prince ]_)oraste son lilz a enleue. 
8uys nous, & remercie les Dieux du bonheur de nostre 

zIgatocles auec un de ses Consdllers. 
A. que les Dieux me vendent cher les felicitez de mon 
Hymene. Ie me pouuois vanter d'auoir un jeune Hercule 


qui en son enfance auoit des ja ecras les Serpens des 
guerres ciuiles. C'etoit la consolation de ma viellesse, 
l'esperance de mort peuple, l'appuy de mon Royaume 
l'hornement de ma Cour. Et la Terreur, & l'Effroyde 
rues ennemis. Mais de ce bien les Dieux ne m'en ont 
donn la jouissance que pour m'en faire ressentir la priua- 
tion. Perte si sensible, que comme ie n'ay rien plus a 
esperer, aussi n'ay-je rien plus a craindre. 
Sire vostre Majest se plaint d'un malheur d'ont elle 
n'aura que les menaces. L'absance de Monseigneur le 
Prince, Monseigneur vostre Fils, nous presage plutost une 
suite volontaire, qu'une perte infaillible. Et son depart 
precipit6 me fair croire que l'Amour luy tient companie. 
Les eclairs deuancent les foudres. L'absance de mon 
Filz est l'auantcouriere de sa mort. Mon ame est trop 
afflig6e pour estre capable de consolation. 
Sire les grands malheurs sont reseruez pour les grands 
espritz, assin que la force de leur courage, soit propor- 
tion6e a la pesanteur de leur fardeau. Desorte que vostre 
magnanimit6 peut supporter aizement cete infortune, quand 
les nouuelles en seroient aussi veritables qu'incertaines. 
Cet manquer de courage de vouloir resister a une douleur 
dont la playe est incurable. En prolongeant rues jours 
j'accrois le hombre de rues peynes. 


L'Esperance ne vit plus en moy, & l'aprehension 
mortelle dont ie suis attaint est un funeste presage de mon 
infortune. Puis que Doraste est priu6 de la lumiere du 
jour, celuy cy sera le dernier de ma vie. 

Doraste, Fauuye, Panoppe, Paysan, " Pilote. 
Que ne te puis ie oster le sentiment de tes maulx, de 
mesme que i'en souffre la douleur, ma chere vie. Ie 
n'endure que pour toy, & toutesfois tes peines n'en sont 
point d'iminuees. 
Tom ces nouueaux temoignages de vostre amour, sont 
autant de nouuelles playes que vous faites dam mon ame. 
Car comme vous ne souffrez que pour moy ie n'endure que 
pOl/r vou8. 
Ie ne diray donc plus que ie t'ayme puis qu'aussi bien 
rues paroles ne sauroient exprimer la verit de mon amour ; 
mais comment pourray ie cacher le resentiment que j'ay de 
tes peynnes. 
II faut changer de discours. Ce n'et pas tout d'auoir 
euitt les ecueils de la mer, on doibt songer maintenant 
aux dangers que nous pouuons encourir sur la Terre. 


Puis que la fortune nous donne ]e choix de ces diuers 
dangers, cherchons la Piti6 parmy les hommes, p]utost que 
parmy les ondes; que si nos peinnes st inutilles, cete 
consolation nous demeurera, d'auoir manqu6 de bonheur, 
plutost que de Prudence. 
I1 faut s'esloigner des dangers aparens comme des 
Ecueils, 8c des Syrenes. Pour moy iamerois mieux estre 
mang des vers, que des poissons. 
Nostre perte est infalible sur la met; que si elle est 
incertaine sur la terre, il n'y a point de conseil a prendre. 
Changeons doric de nom, & de qualit6, & disons 
nous habitans de Candie, pour donner moins de iour a la 
refit6, de peur que ce perfide Pandoste ne nous dresse 
quelque enbuche. 
Ie ne scaurois changer de nora, n'y de qualitd en qu'elque 
lieu que ie fois. Ie vetux tousiours porter le nora de vostre 
ceeur, & la qualit6 de vostre seruante. 
Vous pouuez bien porter le nora de mort Cmur puis que 
vous l'etez en effect, mais pour la qualit6 de seruante, vos 
perfections nous trahiroient, celle de M'aitresse vous sera 
plus conuenable, & a nous plus utille. 


Ne Changeons donc point d'opinion, le Temps seschape 
peu a peu de nous : & Comme les astres versent sans cesse 
sur nos testes leurs influences : peut estre qu'en ce moment 
les bones se repandent inutillement. 
L'occasion s'enfuit aussi bien que le Temps, & tous 
deux courent si rite, qu'il est bien malaize de les attaindre. 
Prenons tousiours les I)ieux pour protecteurs, puis que 
darts le port nous courons danger de naufrage. 
C'et le seul appuy qui nous reste, en l'estremit6 ou nous 
sommez reduitz. 

Le Roy Pandoste, 5' le reost. 
I ar apris qu'une ieune dame estrgere estoit arriuee 
hier au soir. Le Recit qu'on ma fair de sa beautd me 
donne l'enuie de la voir, & j'en meurs d'inpatience, sans 
scauoir pourquoy. 
Lz Pvos'r. 
Vostre Majest6 peut receuoir ce contentement a route 
h eure. Sa puissance absolue change tous ses desks en 


Le Roy auec Fauuye seule. 
LE Roy. 
II faut que ie confesse que ie n'ay jamais rien veu de si 
beau que vous. Vos appas sont si d'oux, & vos graces 
si charmantes qu'en lage ou ie suis, ie n'en puis parler 
qu'en soupirant. Vos yeux ont alum la glace de mon 
cceur,& ie ne mestonne pas de cete merueille, puis que 
vostre rein est tout de feu, quoy qu'il soit tout de neige. 
Comme ie ne suis belle qu'aux yeux de mon Epoux, ie 
n'ose le croire que quand luy mesme m'en assure. Et de 
me vouloit persuader que mes yeux vous ayent rendu 
amoureux, il n'y a pas beaucoup d'aparance. Parce que 
ilzont donn tout l'amour qu'ils auoient a celuy qui me 
possede: & hors de luy, tous les objetz du monde leur 
sont indiferens. 

LE RoY. 
Ce n'et pas pour vous tenter de vannit6 que ie parle de 
vos perfections, j'en publie la grandeur parce que j'en 
ressens la force. Et quoy que vos yeux ayent donn6 tout 
l'amour qu'ils auoient, leur nature aymable les faict tousiours 
aymer, & cete Verit6 m'est si sensible, que ie ne la 
puis taire. 
Ie n'ay point d'autre perfection que celle de sqauoir 
aymer uniquement mon Epoux. Et rues yeux presagent 
plutost la pluye, que le beau temps, en l'abzance de leur 


LE RoY. 
Ne me sera t'il point permis de vous demander la 
guerison du real que vous m'auez fair; Que si vos yeux 
me menact de la pluye mon sort n'en sera pas moins 
glorieux. I'ayme autant encourir le naufrage dans leau 
de leurs l'armes, clue l'embrasement dans le feu de leurs 
Si vostre mal est veritable, demandez en le remede a la 
Raison; si'l est immaginere vostre immagination vous 
LE Rox. 
Si la Raison me pouuoit guerit ie n'impIorerois pas 
vostre piti6; Que faut il que ie face; que voulez vous 
que ie deuiene. Rendez moy la libert6 que vous m'auez 
ost6e, ou agr6ez ma seruitude. 


Vostre Majest6 m'accuse d'un crime dont mes pensees 
sont innocentes ; Comment pourroisie auoir rauy sa libert6 
dans la seruitude ou ie suis reduite. 

LE RoY. 
Ie veux croire que vos pensees sont innocentes de ce 
rauissement pui8 que vous l'auez fair sans y penser, mais 
voz beautez en sont coupables ; Et comme vous debuez 
repondre d'elles, ie vous demande le remede du mal 
quelles me font. 


Si vostre Majest ne meurt que des blessures que ie luy 
ay faites elle se peut ranter d'estre immortelle. 
L RoY. 
Les douleurs d'un real incurable sont plus insupportables 
que la mort, & [e mien est de cette nature, si vous m'en 
refusez la guerison. 
Vostre Majest presche un Rocher: Car jay le coeur 
de roche contre toutes ces attaintes. IVlon honneur & 
ma vie ne sont qu'une mesme chose, qui aspire a Pun, 
conspire contre l'autre. 
L RoY. 
Ie rends les armes a vostre chastet, elle merite les 
couronnes du triomphe. Et ie suis fort aize d'estre temoing 
de sa gloire, aussi bien qu'admirateur. Mais sans mentir 
ie ne saurois dire quel des deux emporte 1'aduantage, ou 
de vostre esprit, ou de vostre corps: Car le Ciel a 
combl Pun de tant de vertus, & la nature, l'autre de 
tt de ]3eautez, que j'en demeure egalement rauy, sans 
s;auoir a qui donner le prix. 
Ie ne merite point des loianges pour ma chastet Parce 
que cet une vertu qui est propre & affectee a celles de notre 
sexce. La seule gloire que ie pretens, cet de pouuoir 
semoigner a vostre Majest6 que ie suis sa tres humble 


L'employ que ie vous donne, vous doibt fake cognoitre 
en qu'elle consideration ie vous tiens. Et si vostre fortune 
de pend de ma puissance, rues faueurs surpasseront vostre 
Le Roy Pandoste avec son Preuost. 
O que l'amour est redoubtable; Que son bandeau est 
obscur puis qu'il auueugle egalement, & mes sens & ma 
raison; Que son flablea est ardant. Puis que mon sang 
tout geld des rues veines s'enflame d'une nouuelle vigueur ; 
que see traitz sont acerez, puis qu'ils ont blessd mon cceur, 
que l'age rendoit aussy dur que la pierre; Et que see 
coups sont ineuitables puis que par un seul regard, mon 
ame a estd reduite en seruitude. Cete jeune estrangere 
est la belle cause de tous ces maulx, & la douce ennemye 
de mon repos. Et pour un dernier malheur, sa vertu 
veut que ie meure de la blessure que sa t3eaut6 ma faire. 
Sire vostre puissance absolue est l'unique remede de 
vostre mal. 
LE Roy. 
Comment puis ie faire la loy a mon Vainqueur Le Regne 
de ma puissance absolue est expird L'amour est assis sur 
le trone de mon Empire. 
Les Ames Ies plus passionn&s treuuent souuent Ie 
remede de leur real dans le desepoir 1 de sa guerison. 
x d&espoir. 



Qu'on Eslargisse cet estranger, nous saurons ce qui en 
est. Ie conjure les Dieux de fauoriser egalement en cela ; 
& mes desirs, & vos esperances. 
Sire nos veux sont acomplis. Cet ]uy mesme. Nous 
demandons maintenant justice a vostre MajestY, pour 
fake punir cete bergere. 
Doraste " le Paysan. 
El]e est compaigne de ma fortune. Sa rye & la mienne 
nont qu'un mesme sort. 
LE RoY. 
Son age la rend excusable, il vaut mieux punir ce vielard 
en qualit de Pere, pour aprandre a ses semblable. 
d'instruire mieux leurs enfans. 

Le Pa3,san agenoux. 
Sire ce n'et point ma fille. I1 y a tantost quinze ans que 
ie la treuuay dans une petite nassele sur le riuage de la mer, 
ou le vent de sa bonne fortune l'auoit faite surgir. Et 
voicy la bague qu'elle auoir  pendue au col. 
L Roy. 
Qu'el Prodige de bonheur, cete hague dechire le bandeau 
de mon auueuglement, pour me faire recognoitre ma fille ; 
Que ie t'embrasse, cher obiet de mes felicitez. Ie n'oze 
me dire ton Pere, si tu ne me pardones lecrime qui m'en a 
fait perdre la qualit& Mais tu ne me refuseras pas ta 
1 avait. 



mes joyes se terminent dans vos prosperitez. Messieurs 
les Ambassadeurs vous ctracteres de ma part, cette 
alliance auec le Roy de Cicile, vostre Maistre soubz la roy 
de la parole que ie vous donne. 

N6us executerons fidelement les commandemens de 
vostre 1V[ajeste. 
Lr Roy. 
Alons cependant celebrer darts mon Palais, la feste d'une 
joye si publique.